


The Gift of a Home

by firewolfsg



Series: A Second Chance at Life AU [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Brotherly Love, Brothers, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-12-14 19:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11789964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firewolfsg/pseuds/firewolfsg
Summary: Mitth’gur’safis hasn’t had to deal with children in decades after his own had grown up and now he’d voluntarily brought two Merit Adoptees into his household. His own children have laughed at him for his fears of being inadequate to this terrifying task.Mitth’ras and little Mitth’raw would eventually change his mind.





	1. The Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> My muse is in the mood for family fluff. And this is a multi-part! @_@ omg. I hadn’t realised this story was going to turn out so long when I first embarked on writing it. Hope it brings some amusement to readers.

Mitth’gur’safis would freely admit that he wasn’t comfortable with younglings. This had been a constant source of humour to his wife when they were raising their own children, and later with his son when he had first presented him with his first grandchild.

On the day of the expected arrival of his newly adopted children, he would admit to anyone who asked that he was quite terrified of making a mess of things. Somewhere in the afterlife, he knew his wife was roaring with laughter that her courageous, fierce hero of a husband almost didn’t sleep the night before from the anxiety of soon having the last of the Vagaari orphans formally transferred into his care.

Mitth’asi’rizor clapped his father on the shoulder to stop him from pacing around the living room. “Oh, father. Settle down, Thfliro and I didn’t turn out too badly.”

“Your mother had a more experienced hand in raising you than I ever did.” Mitth’gur’safis groaned as he finally took a seat to cover his eyes in his hands. “What do I know about raising children? It’s been *decades* since you were children! I can’t remember anymore what I was doing—”

Thasir grabbed his father’s hands and made him look him in the eye. “We turned out *fine*.” He told his father firmly. “You weren’t around as much as mother, but what memories I have of you as a child was always happy.

“Father…” Thasir massaged his hands comfortingly. “You want this. Something in those two boys touched you, I’ve seen their files and I dare say you will have a ‘safis’ from this, someone who will follow in your footsteps.”

“Thas—“

“I really do understand, father. You were sad that neither Thfliro nor I had any interest in diplomacy and politics, but you never tried to press us. And you have *always* been supportive of what we wanted to do.” Thasir told his father gently. “Thfliro and I want this for you.”

“What I want should not matter in this, Thasir.” Mitth’gur’safis protested softly. “What if this is a mistake? What do *I* know? Those two boys… They should have the choice of what they want to be. The same choices I gave to you and your sister.”

“And that is how we know you are making this decision for the right reasons, father.” Thasir assured him. “You’re NOT pushing your wants and desires upon them. You’re a good man who knows he can make a difference in the lives of someone who needs you, and you make Thfliro and I so proud of you. So much more than your career as a military man or a statesman has ever made us.”

“But I don’t get along with younglings, Thasir. I usually scare the children of my peers.”

“That’s because you’re a stern, intimidating man. But you didn’t scare these two.” Thasir grinned at him. “You might as well know that Thfliro had me interacting with them too. She was trying to persuade me to volunteer to be their sponsors.”

“Maybe you—“ Mitth’gur’safis looked at him with sudden relief.

“No.” Thasir told him firmly. “You know I am already scheduled to be on an archaeological dig with my wife for the next three years, father. It is far from an ideal situation to bring children along at these job sites. And my wife and I were lining up this opportunity to get away as soon as the last of our own children were safely in their chosen colleges and universities.

“Anyway, I spoke to the younglings, father. And I have to say, you were *very* impressive to have gained their trust so quickly in just one meeting.”

“Oh?”

“Ras is very protective of his younger brother.” Thasir told him very seriously. “Thfliro told me that you were carrying little Raw when you brought them back to the institute.”

“What of it?”

“Father, in the four years that they have been at Thfliro’s institute, Ras has only ever allowed her and her aide to carry his baby brother. Apart from them and the institute nurse, he has *never* allowed anyone else to touch Raw when he’s around.”

“I—“ Mitth’gur’safis was stunned at this revelation. “I—it was Raw who reached for me first—he gave me permission…”

Now it was Thasir’s turn to look at his father with wide eyes. “Raw? Shy little Raw? Raw, who usually won’t say anything unless his brother encourages him to?”

“He’s quiet?”

“Yes! In our three meetings, he hardly said five words to me; even with his brother’s encouragement. He’s—“ Thasir paused a moment as he recalled something his sister had told him about their first meeting with their father. “Oh! Right! You met in the museum. At the Xeno *Art* Exhibit. Thfliro did tell me that Raw would only speak at any length when he’s talking about Art.”

“Yes, that’s true.” Mitth’gur’safis smiled a little at the memory of that very remarkable day wandering around the exhibits of the museum listening to the little boy talk art. “But he also spoke well enough when I asked him how he knew I was Thfliro’s father.”

Thasir snorted in laughter. “And wasn’t it because they were giving you a report of their observation of you, since you invited them to?”

Mitth’gur’safis wasn’t sure what to say to that. It only made him think all the more that these were indeed two very intelligent promising children that he needed to give all the opportunities to in their further development. Still…

“I’ll make a mess of things.”

“You will NOT.” Thasir looked up as he heard his father’s housekeeper come in with a fresh pot of tea for them. “Tell him, Zore'etaotha'usti, you’ve known my father for some thirty years now.”

The aged woman smiled brightly at them as she poured some fresh cups of tea for them. “Now, Patriarch, it would be nice to have the pitter patter of little feet in these lonely estates again. Why, you used to have your grandchildren thundering down the corridors near weekly in the old days. And your grandchildren have always loved you.”

“See?” Thasir told him encouragingly. “And I dare say your staff will be more than glad to help you in keeping an eye out for your new children.”

Her aide, Rithu'teke'sernim, came in as well carrying a tray of finger sandwiches and cakes that he placed on the table, and laying out three more sets of cutleries in anticipation of the guests about to arrive. “It would be nice to have more company, Patriarch.”

Mitth’gur’safis looked at them suspiciously. “I am NOT a lonely old man.”

“Who ever said that, father?” Thasir told his father solemnly without a hint of humour.

If Mitth’gur’safis wanted to challenge this, he lost his chance to as his butler came in to let them know that Mitth’flir’ora had just arrived with her charges. The butterflies in his stomach returned with full force, making Mitth’gur’safis feel almost sick with stress.

Thasir’s hand clapped upon his father’s meaty shoulder to give him a squeeze of encouragement. “Come father. You’ve been on a battlefield before. You are not about to die.

“The younglings are probably more nervous than you are. Some Merit Adoptions have failed before, with the adoptee returned to the family they originally came from. In this case, it would just be back to the institute—“

“I will NOT.” Mitth’gur’safis came to his feet in determination. “I made my decision to take them in as mine at that museum, and I’m NOT about to give them back.”

“There you go.” Thasir laughed as he gripped his father by his shoulders and gave him a playful push towards the doors to their entrance hall. “You *do* want them.”

“Yes… Yes, I do.” Mitth’gur’safis took a deep breath and walked before his softly laughing son to meet his new children.

* * *

As to be expected, the younglings were shy and nervous. Ras held his brother in an almost trembling grip, and little Raw had one hand clenched upon his brother’s hair as his other clutched his strange looking soft toy (Admiral Sch’noz’zlar, Mitth’gur’safis reminded himself) tight against his chest.

However, after the talk with his son, Mitth’gur’safis now had a new understanding of how to distract them and make them feel at ease. All he had to do was point at the painting in the hall and ask Raw what he thought of it.

The little boy perked up to turn his attention to the sombre art piece, guiding his brother to come further into the entrance hall, and eventually he even let Mitth’gur’safis take him from his brother’s reluctant arms to bring him up for a closer look at the painting. It didn’t surprise Mitth’gur’safis one bit that Raw was able to correctly identify the artist and even the era that the piece was created.

“Well done, Thraw. That’s correct.” Mitth’gur’safis beamed at the little boy. His mouth dropped in an ‘o’ at the new appellation. “Is that okay? This would be your new name now. Mitth’raw. Thraw.” He then looked down to hold a hand out to the older boy. “Just as your new name would be Mitth’ras. Thras. Will this be all right?”

Thras didn’t hesitate to take his hand. “Matron didn’t tell us.” The elder boy told him softly. “I thought—I thought this was just temporary…”

“No, boys.” Mitth’gur’safis got down on one knee so that Thras could look him in the eye. “I decided take you both into my family on that day we spent together at the museum. I think we got on very well, don’t you think so too?”

Thras bit his bottom lip as he nodded shyly. Mitth’gur’safis turned to look at the boy in his arms who was looking down at the soft toy that he still clutched to his chest.

“Thraw?”

“I never did get to thank you again for Admiral Sch’noz’zlar.” The little boy told him softly as he looked at him from below his eyelashes. “That was the best day I could ever remember.”

“And we shall have many more, my boys.” Mitth’gur’safis nuzzled his nose into Thraw’s hair making him giggle, while he gently squeezed Thras’ hand.

Coming to his feet, he started off down the corridor. “So, come lads, I’ll show you your new home and the art that our family has collected over the years.”

“Do you collect art too?” Thraw asked in wonder.

“Our family has a modest collection.” Mitth’gur’safis told him as he led the brothers into his home. “Paintings and some sculptures, but I don’t like to be selfish, so I lend the more renown pieces to various museums and rotate them with what I keep here.”

“Er—father?” Thfliro’s tone was faintly disapproving, but he could also hear the hint of a smile in her voice. “It was a long journey from the Institute. Perhaps some refreshments are in order first?”

“What do you think?” Mitth’gur’safis asked the two boys. He could see from little Thraw’s expression that ‘art’ was all that mattered to the boy, but Thras was clearly in agreement with Thfliro.

“Ra— Thraw…”

“Tea first, then art?” Thraw asked shyly.

“Of course.” Mitth’gur’safis easily led the boys into the living room, while pretending obliviousness to his elder two children who had bent heads to giggle softly behind him.

tbc


	2. Adjustments of Trust

Mitth’gur’safis almost couldn’t believe the ease with which he fitted the two brothers into his household. They were— uncomplicated. Well behaved, polite even to the servants. Fast to become favourites of his housekeeper.

Zore'etaotha'usti’s kitchens appeared to be producing more desserts, cakes and sweets than Mitth’gur’safis could ever remember being offered to him since he engaged her. It was easily explained away by her discovery of the brothers’ sweet tooth. They never asked or demanded sweets, of course, but it just warmed everyone’s heart to see their delight and excitement with the dessert that she’d display for them at the conclusion of the evening meal. There would also always be little cakes and sweet biscuits with their tea as they read in the library or the study with Mitth’gur’safis.

Mitth’gur’safis supposed he should also have predicted that once he presented the Mitth household library to them, it was a no wonder the children were little trouble to him and his normal schedule. The two brothers were voracious readers and it was—comfortable for him to be reading though his reports and dealing with his correspondence while they sat on the sofa in his study or sprawled on the floor with their chosen reading material for the day.

Still, the first meltdown was inevitable, he supposed. However, he couldn’t have guessed that it was going to be over their education…

* * *

“No.”

“What?” Mitth’gur’safis stared at the ten-year-old who sat with folded arms from across his desk. “Thras? What’s wrong with finally being able to attend school again?”

 “Can’t—can’t we bring in tutors?”

“Tutors? My boy, you need social interaction with peers.”

“No, I—I don’t—Thraw doesn’t need to go.”

“Well, not right now.” Mitth’gur’safis agreed. “He can have tutors here, but that’s because he would be far ahead of his year mates. There are no schools who can take Thraw at his advance level at this age. But for yourself—“

“I can wait until he’s ready too, can’t I?”

Ahhh. It suddenly dawned on Mitth’gur’safis what the actual issue was. He stood from his desk and beckoned the boy to come sit with him on the sofa. Thras was tensed, but he moved to join him anyway.

“Thras? You can talk to me.” Mitth’gur’safis told him gently. “Yes, going to school means you’ll be away from your brother for several hours, but he’ll still be here safe with me when you come back.”

“Y—yo—you promise?”

Mitth’gur’safis pulled the boy up to sit on his lap so that they could look each other in the eye. “Yes, Mitth’ras. Yes, I promise that Mitth’raw will remain safe here with me in the Mitth household when you return.

“I brought both of you into my household and gave you my name, Thras.” Mitth’gur’safis told him softly, “Have I done anything to make you doubt my sincerity?”

“NO! I—Its—“ Thras looked down with a shudder before he’d meet his eyes again. “With—when we were with the slavers. There—there was once when they needed extra hands, so I was—I was taken to work with the labourers one day. I left Ra—Thraw—he was still a baby, just—just a few months old then. I—I left him with—the woman. When—when I got back, sh—she had put him into a sack.”

Mitth’gur’safis’ hands had tightened on the boy’s arms, but he had presence of mind to release him just as quickly so as not to hurt him. “She tried to suffocate him?”

The boy nodded. “It was—I guess she hadn’t been quite committed to—killing him just yet. I never left him alone with her ever again.” Thras told him softly. “After that, if I needed to be taken out, I’d carry Ra—Thraw with me in a sling.”

“Still, those days are a long time ago, Thras.” Mitth’gur’safis continued speaking with the boy in a soft and calm manner, shifting him so that he could hold him in a comforting hug. “I feel something else must have happened since then. What is it?”

“It—wasn’t anyone’s fault at the Institute. There was an outing. Matron wanted everyone to go, but R—Thraw was sick. He—he caught a cold. I didn’t want to go, but she said he’d—be fine in the infirmary. Only—only when I got back, the nurse told us that she had—she had to send him to the medical centre. His fever wouldn’t go away and she was afraid he’d get worse— and I wasn’t there—He could have died and I was—”

“Thras…” Mitth’gur’safis interrupted him firmly. “Even if you were there, Thraw would probably have still needed to be taken to the medical centre. It *wasn’t* because you were separated that he almost died. It isn’t your separation that brings misfortune to your brother.”

“But—“

“Thras.” Mitth’gur’safis interrupted him again. “Thraw is stronger now. I promise you that we already have the finest paediatricians on Csilla attending to him and working with our household to boost his immunity and strength. Rithu'teke'sernim feeds him a tonic twice daily that we have been assured will help to strengthen his heart and lungs.

“Thras, child? I promise you, myself and my household, we will keep Thraw safe while you’re at school.” Mitth’gur’safis told him sincerely meeting his tearful gaze straight on. “Will you trust us—trust me to take care of Thraw?”

Thras took in a shuddering breath. “You promise?”

“I promise, Mitth’ras. Mitth’raw will be safe in my care while you’re at school.” Mitth’gur’safis told him solemnly.

“Then I will trust you, Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis.” Thras told him just as solemnly.

* * *

The day that Thras was to go off for his first school day was almost anticlimactic. Thras again displayed some worry, but Thraw cut his brother off and the younger brother firmly told him that he expected him to return with stories about the students and teachers he’d meet and the friends he was going to make. In all, Mitth’gur’safis was grateful for Thraw’s encouragement to his brother in departing for school with their butler, Jrott'omewo'uanuth’s assurance that he’d deliver him directly to the school gates and further check in with the principal to make sure he was comfortably settled, then pick him up again when classes were over.

Mitth’gur’safis had looked at the little boy in his arms, once the household cruiser was out of sight, to notice that Thraw’s hand was tangled in his hair while Admiral Sch’noz’zlar was firmly clutched against his chest. It occurred to him then that Thraw would have a tiny fist clenched around a lock of his brother’s hair whenever he was in a stressful situation. Only this time, it was his hair that was held tight in Thraw’s fist. The little boy noticed his attention and blushed as he slowly released the tension in his fist.

“It’s all right, Thraw.” Mitth’gur’safis told him gently as he brought the child back into the house and out of the cold. “You can hold on to my hair if it comforts you.”

“It—bad habit…”

“Which doesn’t hurt anyone, and it’s quite all right with me.” Mitth’gur’safis assured him softly. “You’re not pulling on my hair, so there’s no discomfort to me, Mitth’raw. It’s all right.”

Thraw chewed on his lower lip. “When—when we were still with the slavers. The woman some—a lot of times—she wouldn’t feed me… Ra—Thras let me chew on his hair.”

Mitth’gur’safis raise his other hand to stroke it over Thraw’s head and guide the boy’s head to rest against his shoulder as he continued on to his study. He had no words. He could only rigidly keep a lid on his anger for this—‘woman’ neither of the brothers had ever attempted to call ‘mother’.

“I don’t chew on hair anymore. But sometimes, I can’t help grabbing a lock.”

“It’s all right, Thraw.” Mitth’gur’safis murmured against his head. “Like I said, you don’t pull on it, so there’s no discomfort to me. If it gives you security, it’s all right for you to take my hair in your hand too."

Mitth’gur’safis kissed him on the forehead and unexpectedly startled the little boy.

"What was that?"

It made Mitth’gur’safis' heart break all over again. "Oh, my child. That was a kiss. People use it as a sign of affection."

"Oh?"

"Yes, there are social rules to this though. A quick little peck like that is perfectly acceptable between family members on the forehead—the cheeks. And even on the nose." Mitth’gur’safis demonstrated, making Thraw giggle with the kiss on the nose.

"But on the lips. Ahh, that you should be careful with."

"Why?" Thraw frowned at him. "You use your lips to kiss."

"A tiny peck maybe okay between family members. But no more than a second or two." Mitth’gur’safis told him gravely. "Any longer would be deemed inappropriate."

"Why?"

"The lips, my child, should be reserved for a lover or someone closer to your heart."

"What can be closer to your heart except family?"

"Someone not a child and not already family that you want to have as family." Mitth’gur’safis tried to carefully lay down the 'rules'. "You should only practice this when you're a lot older and think you want to have your and your partner's family— join."

"As a prelude to a contract of familial union?"

Mitth’gur’safis barely managed to control his snort of laughter at this overly formal statement. "Something like that. But it's nothing to concern yourself with at this age, Thraw. Just understand that it is affection that is acceptable in some very finite circumstances."

"Oh?"

Mitth’gur’safis took a deep breath. This wasn't a conversation he'd thought he'd ever need to be put through again after his children grew up. "There are very strict rules about kissing and touching in society, Thraw. There are places on your body that you should not let anyone touch. And kisses that you should not allow..."

"Oh... Thras— Thras told me about—about bad touches..."

"Then— do you want me to go over those rules again?"

Thraw shook his head as his grip tightened over the lock of hair in his hand and Admiral Sch’noz’zlar both. Mitth’gur’safis thought he'd go limp with relief to be spared this uncomfortable subject, but there was more to add.

"This is important, Thraw. If you are ever doubtful, please come straight to me to ask. Promise me that, child. If you think or even wonder that how another is touching you feels like it's a bad touch, you come straight to me and check."

"I promise." Thraw laid his head on Mitth’gur’safis' shoulder again.

"Thank you. That's all I ask."

They stayed silent for a long moment, cuddled together on a sofa in his study. Mitth’gur’safis did realise though this would be the longest he'd held Thraw in his arms when they weren't discussing art. As reluctant as he was to break their comfortable silence, he had to ask and check on the state of mind of his youngest.

“Thraw? How are you really? This—this would be the first time you and your brother have been separated in your memory, isn’t it?”

Thraw sniffled against his shoulder. “Thras needs this. He needs to know he can and *should* go out and live his own life.

"I—I don’t want to hold him back.” Was said in a whisper.

“You are not holding him back, dear one.” Mitth’gur’safis continued to stroke a hand over Thraw’s head. “He is your elder brother. It’s the same for me. We are family. So, it will forever be our right to worry and fuss over you.”

“I want to be stronger.” Thraw whispered against his shoulder.

“You will be, Thraw. Give it time.”

“That tonic Rithu'teke'sernim gives me before breakfast and at bedtime is—unpleasant.”

“I’m sorry, dear one. It’s for your own good.”

“I know.”

Mitth’gur’safis looked down at the little boy in his arms. Something his son had told him about the little boy nagged at him. “Thraw, it seems you trust me more than your brother does. Why is that?”

“Matron showed me your handwriting and signature once.” Thraw looked up at him. “You’ve heard of Graphology?”

Mitth’gur’safis blinked at him. Thraw smiled at him shyly. “It is almost like a form of art. Your handwriting told me that you are confident, humble, reliable. Someone to be trusted.

“I was not wrong.”

The confidence in Thraw’s last statement made Mitth’gur’safis laughed. “You will be one to be feared when you grow up, Mitth’raw.”

“Why?” Thraw frowned back.

“Your insight into people just from their— art… “ Mitth’gur’safis chuckled as he lightly bobbed Thraw on his nose with a finger. “Now I *know* I really must introduce you to a colleague of mine. I suspect she can help us think of something you’d be interested to study towards.”

“Art History isn’t enough?”

“Do you truly think it will be enough for you?”

Thraw sucked in a deep breath at the question, but he looked down at Admiral Sch’noz’zlar rather than meet Mitth’gur’safis in the eye. “I—would like to go out there—into space. The slavers—they brought misery to those that they took. Commander Ar’alani saved us… I would like to be like her.”

“It will be something to work towards then.”

“But—I’m—too small… and have a weak heart…” Thraw said softly as he hugged Admiral Sch’noz’zlar tighter against his chest.

“Thraw.” Mitth’gur’safis gently lifted his chin so that they could meet eyes again. “My daughter once told me that you were stubborn enough to prove to everyone your resolve to survive and thrive beyond anyone’s expectations. You don’t have to meet adversity alone. You have family now and we will help you reach for your dreams.”

“Really?”

“Really. In fact, let’s make the first step towards this, Thraw.” Mitth’gur’safis smiled at him. “Before you even joined my household. When I had already decided to give you my name, I was also wondering on this other family that I was thinking of introducing you to.”

Thraw looked at him expectantly.

“Sev’eere’nuruodo.”

“Of the Second Ruling Family?” Thraw frowned at him. “What would I have to offer?”

“That we shall discover, my boy.” Mitth’gur’safis grinned at him. “I’ll have my secretary invite her over for Tea before the week is out, if she's planet side.

“In the meantime? Have you ever heard of Csun'bi Sirim?”

“It is an—encircling game with white and black rounded stones; a game of strategy where two players aim to surround more territory than their opponent.” Thraw nodded his understanding. “I watched a game on the Holo Net once. It looked very complex.”

“Would you like me to teach you?”

“Oh! Yes, please!”

tbc


	3. Encircling Considerations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, Thras wasn't cooperative in giving me a scene with this chapter, so it's a bit short. The next chapter promises to be much longer though. Hope you enjoy

Oh, Mitth’gur’safis swore that his pride was in tatters. Within a few days of teaching Mitth’raw how to play Csun'bi Sirim, the five-year-old was already giving him a significant challenge in staying ahead. Mitth’gur’safis knew he was a casual player at best, but Thraw truly had an amazing mind for his age. He wondered if as a side project, he might consider grooming the boy to play professionally if the meeting with Sev’eere’nuruodo did not pan out.

As it was, the meeting with Sev’eere’nuruodo was going to take some time to arrange since she was off planet again on assignment. Fortunately, Thraw did not mind the wait. His current focus was on this fascinating and complex game that Mitth’gur’safis had just taught him.

With his new hectic class schedule, Thras did not have the time or the energy to want to learn the game. And Mitth’gur’safis was secretly glad for that. The two brothers really needed to learn and accept that they could develop different interests. Thraw had art and now Csun'bi Sirim, while Thras had been engaged by his new friends in a debate club and, much to Mitth’gur’safis and the household's amusement though Thraw’s horror, girls.

* * *

“Now, Thraw.” Mitth’gur’safis told the little boy gently, when he came to him after seeing his brother off that first morning when Thras started paying quite a bit more attention to his hair and even added a bit of makeup and eye liner to his usual morning preparations. “It’s a natural part of life. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about with your brother having an interest in girls.”

“But we’re still children.” Thraw held his arms up to Mitth’gur’safis letting the man know he wanted to be picked up and cuddled.

“And Thras’ has said that his interest is in a peer of his own age.” Mitth’gur’safis easily lifted the tiny boy into his arms and settled him against his chest so that Thraw could listen to his heart. “That’s perfectly fine. It would only be questionable if the one he’s interested in, or who has interest in him, is far older or younger than he is.”

“Oh… okay. I suppose Srosu'onara'aqa is all right then.”

Mitth’gur’safis looked down at him in surprise. “Did he tell you?”

“No. But his friends did come here to study a couple of times.” Thraw frowned at him. “They were exchanging a lot of furtive glances. I thought they were planning a prank together, but nothing happened. Then again, their timing was quite off and they never managed to meet eyes through any of their visits.”

Mitth’gur’safis snorted in laughter, remembering how Thras had quietly wailed to him earlier that week about not being sure of his crush’s interest, and with him volunteering Zore'etaotha'usti enthusiastic assistance in the art of subtle make up to attract attention.

“I’m sure he will be fine.”

Thraw lifted his head to look at him suspiciously, but Mitth’gur’safis distracted him with the offer of a game of Csun'bi Sirim, with the promise that he’d play with all his skill and not let him win on purpose.

* * *

Really! Mitth’gur’safis firmly told himself that he wasn’t intentionally losing… He was sooo screwed. A fact the commander of his House Phalanx told him honestly when she came to see him while Thraw was with his tutors.

Kirg'eciami'ogoqh had wandered over to the 19x19 board with its placement of white and black stones while she waited for him to look over the datapad she had handed him. “You do realise Mitth’raw will have you within the next ten moves, Patriarch?” 

Mitth’gur’safis moaned as he hid his face in the datapad. “And it will be the third game in a row. He thinks I am taking it easy on him.

“Oh! You’re quite an accomplished player, aren’t you, Kirg'eciami'ogoqh?”

“It is a warriors’ game. I dare say many in the guards and the military play Csun'bi Sirim when we have the time to.”

“And can you see a way for me to evade his traps?”

Kirg'eciami'ogoqh gave the board a closer consideration. “Perhaps…”

* * *

When Thraw was finished with his tutors for the day, he was surprised to find Kirg'eciami'ogoqh sitting at the board with her helmet off. Mitth’gur’safis could see from the steadying hand on his thin shoulder that it was only Rithu'teke'sernim’s presence immediately behind him that prevented the boy from running off. Still, he was clutching Admiral Sch’noz’zlar very tight to his chest.

It reminded Mitth’gur’safis then that for all the adjustments that the brothers had smoothly made into their household, Thraw was still very wary around women. They had had to, thus far, be very careful in selecting only male tutors for Thraw.

The recent interest that Thras had taken in girls had been a relief to them all, but it was clearly an uphill battle for little Thraw to trust again. Not that he showed any distrust or fear for the Mitth housekeeper, Zore'etaotha'usti; but she was a force of nature in itself and she doted on the two brothers. If he was busy, hers was the company that they sought if they had nothing else to do.

Knowing of what they had come from, Kirg'eciami'ogoqh never took little Thraw’s wariness to heart. But Mitth’gur’safis knew it did pain the warrior that the child would feel even a hint of fear for someone who was supposed to guard and keep him safe.

“Mitth’raw, this is a very fine game you have played with Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis.” Kirg'eciami'ogoqh spoke softly to the child as if he was a spooked wild creature she was trying to soothe, though that was in truth quite an accurate description. “We both see the traps that you have laid and I would like to propose a move on his behalf.”

“Oh?” Thraw took a few steps closer than froze again, as if he realised how he had been lured forward. However, Rithu'teke'sernim’s steady presence was again halting his retreat.

Zore'etaotha'usti’s aide gave the tiny boy a comforting squeeze on his shoulder and gentle nudge towards the board. “A challenge, Mitth’raw.” He quietly spoke in encouragement. “Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis is a skilled statemen, but his military years are far behind him. Perhaps someone of new military blood could have things to teach you?”

The boy was squeezing the life out of his little soft toy, clearly torn about approaching to accept a lesson or to run and hide.

“You would have this game in ten moves.” Kirg'eciami'ogoqh told him to break the tension.

“Seven.”

Kirg'eciami'ogoqh looked down sharply at the board again before her lips opened in an ‘o’ of surprise. “Oh! Very clever. Alas, even with the move I propose, Patriarch, I cannot see how I could possibly turn the tide of the battle. Though I hoped it would last far longer.”

“What were you going to propose, Kirg'eciami'ogoqh?” Thraw took a few steps closer, his death grip on Admiral Sch’noz’zlar visibly easing.

At Mitth’gur’safis nod of approval, Kirg'eciami'ogoqh picked up a White stone in the sure hold of one who had been a professional player and placed it on the board. In the time that she did so, Thraw had at last moved to take a seat at the board facing her.

It took Thraw only a small moment of consideration before he too mimicked her in picking up a Black stone with his index and middle finger and delicately place it on the board. The placement made Kirg'eciami'ogoqh gasp and break out in an uncharacteristic guffaw of laughter.

“My deepest apologies, Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis.” Kirg'eciami'ogoqh glanced back at him before turning to face the bashfully blushing child. “It appears I will have lost this game for you in five moves rather than your earlier seven.”

“Would—would you like a full game?” Thraw looked up at her shyly.

“If I may, Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis.” Kirg'eciami'ogoqh looked up at him with a tiny bit of pleadingly in her eyes. “I will call my second for a transfer of my duties just this once.

Then she turned to give a slight bow to Thraw. “And if you would do me the honour, I would like to share with you my duty hours so that you will know when you may seek me out for a game.”

“I—I would like that.”

“Of course, Kirg'eciami'ogoqh, please go right ahead.” Mitth’gur’safis ambled over to look at the board.

“Beware child,” Rithu'teke'sernim looked upon Thraw with a bit of concern as he helped him sort the black and white stones into their respective bowls. “Kirg'eciami'ogoqh has played professionally in the past.”

“You can play the game as a career?” Thraw looked up at them curiously while Kirg'eciami'ogoqh was momentarily absent to speak to her second.

“There are sponsors and prize moneys to be won at the professional level.” Mitth’gur’safis nodded. “Though I don’t think Kirg'eciami'ogoqh quite reached the level where she could have made a living from this. And she also much preferred life in the military anyway.

“But Rithu'teke'sernim is correct, Thraw. Kirg'eciami'ogoqh is a much better player than I am.”

“That’s all right. In games, you either win or you learn.” That statement took the two men aback for a moment, though fortunately, Thraw did not seem to notice as he was busy sorting the black from the white stones.

“If you don’t mind my saying so, Patriarch.” Rithu'teke'sernim whispered to him as they watched Kirg'eciami'ogoqh settled down to face Thraw across a cleared Csun'bi Sirim board. “We really should try to arrange to present Mitth’raw to Aristocra Sev’eere’nuruodo.”

“That is in the plans, Rithu'teke'sernim.” Mitth’gur’safis whispered back in assurance. “When she’s back from her latest campaign, I have her secretary’s assurance that she will come by to pay a visit.”

Rithu'teke'sernim smiled as he nodded before he departed to fetch some tea for them. The two staring over the Csun'bi Sirim board were far too engrossed to even notice that he’d departed, though he did gently interrupt them so that he could serve them some tea and biscuits.

When that monumental first game ended in a draw, Mitth’gur’safis could hardly hold back his self-satisfied grin at Kirg'eciami'ogoqh’s shock to have been played to a standstill by a five-year-old child. And the warrior’s eyes were alight with wonder and excitement too to have this fine opponent. It looked to Mitth’gur’safis to be the start of a beautiful friendship.

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If readers have not suspected, Csun'bi Sirim is supposed to be the game 围棋 (wéiqí) a variant of which is the Japanese 囲碁 more commonly known as Go. The game was invented in ancient China more than 2,500 years ago, and is therefore believed to be the oldest board game continuously played today. 
> 
>  
> 
> [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Go_(game)](GO%20Game)


	4. Emergency Operations

The Mitth household was in a frightful uproar. How ever, it had happened, little Thraw had caught a cold and his brother was having a meltdown over it.

“Thras!” Mitth’gur’safis snatched the nearly hyperventilating little boy up in his arms to stop him from pacing. “Please calm down. We have the best paediatrician in practice seeing to Thraw, right now. He will be okay.”

“But—“

“Thras, child.” Mitth’flir’ora stepped up to them to stroke her hand through his hair. “Thraw will be fine. I brought the Institute’s records for Dr. Greq'obate'ferdarg to review and he already has the medical centre’s records. This won’t be like the last time.”

Not for the first time, Mitth’gur’safis was glad his daughter chose to take emergency leave to help him out. It seemed she was doing a better job of bringing Thras back down from his panicked state.

“It was almost pneumonia. Raw nearly died.” Thras sobbed softly into Mitth’gur’safis’ chest.

“Shh, that was then, my child.” He told the child soothingly, easily overlooking how Thras had reverted to the use of their childhood name. The boy was stressed out to be faced by this first medical challenge at their new home.

“Dr. Greq'obate'ferdarg has had many more years as a paediatrician than the nurse at the institute. He will know what to do.”

As if speaking his name summoned him, the aged doctor stepped out from Thraw’s room to beckon them closer. Mitth’gur’safis was glad to see that his face was relaxed and he was smiling.

“Doctor?” Thras wiggled down from Mitth’gur’safis’ arms and dashed over to him. “How’s my brother? Is he okay? Is he awake?”

“Settle down, lad. Your brother will be fine.” Greq'obate'ferdarg patted Thras on the head soothingly. “He has a fever, but I’ve given him a shot for it. Lungs are clear, so there's no worry about his breathing. He just needs to stay in bed and rest for a few days. He is in no danger.

“Oh, Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis, I’ve left his medicine with your Housekeeper, and informed her of the dosage he needs to be given. It’ll make him sleepy, but he needs the rest.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Mitth’gur’safis gripped his hand in thanks. “Are there any other instructions?”

The doctor hesitated for a moment. “Well—the boy’s soft toy?”

“Admiral Sch’noz’zlar?”

The doctor winced, he rather clearly understood that this was a beloved toy and Mitth’gur’safis could feel dread fill his heart. “It—does it need to be destroyed?”

All the anxious occupants in the corridor gave him a look of horror at the suggestion.

“Oh! No, no, no.” The doctor quickly waved his hands at them. “Nothing so drastic. But it is currently a well spring of bacteria. If you could pry it from his hands, it really needs to be properly cleaned and disinfected.”

“Oh, that’s a relief.” Mitth’gur’safis breathed a deep sigh, though Thras’ sceptical look did still give him some worry.

“We still have to get Mitth’raw to relinquish his toy.” Rithu'teke'sernim reminded him.

“Right…” Mitth’gur’safis looked down at Thras. “Well, young man. Shall we?”

“He’s not going to want to let us take him.”

“If you want him to get better. It would be very prudent to.” Dr. Greq'obate'ferdarg put a hand on Thras’ shoulder as he spoke to him earnestly. “The toy is in quite a state and full of bacteria and I can’t imagine what other dangerous pathogens.

“Your brother would be far safer if he can have a clean, disinfected and sterilised toy in his arms.”

Thras sucked in a deep breath at the statement and Mitth’gur’safis could see the boy gathering his strength to argue and win the battle to come with his little brother. And it was, unfortunately, going to be a battle indeed.

* * *

“Nnnooooo.”

“Thraw, please?” Thras had a hand on one of Admiral Sch’noz’zlar’s legs as he tried to gently tug the toy from his brother's grip.

“Doonnwanna.” Thraw had his skinny arms in a death hold around his beloved toy.

Mitth’gur’safis knew that with the boy so weak from sickness they could easily overpower him to take the furry yellow lizard from him, but none of them wanted to do it that way. It was best to try and get him to voluntarily give the toy into their hands.

“Thraw, please.” Mitth’gur’safis asked softly. “We just need to clean him up, and then he’ll be back here with you.”

Thraw whimpered as he clung tightly to his toy as Zore'etaotha'usti continued to mop the sweat from his brow to help bring down his fever. The housekeeper glared at them in disapproval.

“He was doing so well just now.” She hissed at them. “You’re stressing him out in trying to take Admiral Sch’noz’zlar from him.”

“Zore'etaotha'usti, please.” Rithu'teke'sernim spoke to her urgently. “He is in a rather disgusting state.”

Thraw’s usually bright yellow furry lizard toy had seen better days. After nearly a whole day in the arms of the sick boy, Admiral Sch’noz’zlar was looking a sickly green and well saturated in sweat, snort, saliva, and vomit. Dr. Greq'obate'ferdarg’s description of the poor soft toy as a well-spring of bacteria was rather fitting.

Initially standing at the back of the crowd, Kirg'eciami'ogoqh pretty much had enough of them and pushed her way to the front.

“Mitth’raw? Mitth’raw, can you hear me?”

Thraw looked towards her with his fever bright eyes. “Kirg'eciami'ogoqh?”

“Yes, it is.” She spoke to him very gently. “We know you’re very sick right now, but Admiral Sch’noz’zlar is sick too.”

“He is?”

“Yes, he is. And he’ll need some treatment at the clinic.”

“Oh? Okay.” Thraw blinked at her sleepily, his grip on his toy loosening. “You’ll see that he’ll be fixed up too?”

“Yes, he will.” Kirg'eciami'ogoqh told him softly as she gently eased the toy out of his grip. “Rithu'teke'sernim will bring him to a clinic and he’ll be brought right back here when he’s better.”

“Lonely.” Thraw’s hand tightened again on one of Admiral Sch’noz’zlar’s arms.

Thras pushed his way up again. “I’ll be here, Thraw.” He pulled up a corner of Thraw’s blankets and slipped right in to pull his little brother into his arms. “It’ll be okay, I’ll keep you company while Admiral Sch’noz’zlar is being fixed up.”

“Oh… okay.” Thraw was asleep in the next two blinks.

Kirg'eciami'ogoqh quickly shoved the slimy toy towards Rithu'teke'sernim. “Urgh, he feels terrible.”

“You are not burning him.” Zore'etaotha'usti told them firmly while she handed Kirg'eciami'ogoqh a disinfectant cloth with which to wipe her hands.

“No.” Kirg'eciami'ogoqh agreed resolutely as well. “That would be the worst betrayal we could inflict on Mitth’raw if his beloved toy comes to any harm.”

Rithu'teke'sernim held Admiral Sch’noz’zlar by his tail with the extremities of two fingers. “Agreed. But—eeewww. I will have him steam cleaned, sterilised and disinfected.”

“Thank you, Kirg'eciami'ogoqh. And yes, Rithu'teke'sernim. Please do.” Mitth’gur’safis moved up to the bed to brush his hand over Thras’ hair. “Will you be all right, my boy?” He asked quietly.

Thras looked down at his peacefully sleeping brother. “He’s not very hot anymore. And he seems to be sleeping all right.” Thras spoke just as quietly.

“The medicines are working fine then.” Mitth’gur’safis smiled at him. “Come, tell me what book you’ve been reading lately and I’ll read to you for a while.”

* * *

A couple of hours later, Thfliro looked in on her farther and her two little brothers and was gratified to see that they were all three sprawled upon the bed fast asleep now; the two brother’s lying in the cradle of her father’s arms, and sweetly enough, Thraw had a hand stretched over his head and holding onto a lock of Mitth’gur’safis’ hair.

They were making a very early night of it, but she supposed it had been a very exhausting day for the trio. At least, it seemed that the crisis was over…

Famous last words. That was also a thought in her mind as she turned to see Zore'etaotha'usti and Rithu'teke'sernim approaching her worriedly.

“Matron Mitth’flir’ora? We—have a problem…” Rithu'teke'sernim looked quite shamefaced. Beside him, Zore'etaotha'usti was also looking as stressed as she’d ever seen the woman to be.

“Just tell me.”

Rather than tell her, Rithu'teke'sernim showed her.

At first glance, Thfliro couldn’t tell what the two housekeepers were worried about. Admiral Sch’noz’zlar looked nicely cleaned up. He wasn’t as vibrantly yellow as the day Thraw received him and his fur was now starting to look a little bit threadbare, but he did look quite intact.

Then she saw it—or rather she didn’t see it. Two of his beady black eyes were missing.

“I searched *everywhere*.” Rithu'teke'sernim cringed before her horrified expression, “the glue must have loosened and the bits went down the drain.”

“To my father’s study.” Mitth’flir’ora tried to stay calm. “We will fix this.”

* * *

It was a full Mitth Household senior staff gathering; Zore'etaotha'usti, Rithu'teke'sernim, Jrott'omewo'uanuth, and Kirg'eciami'ogoqh assembled to talk with Mitth’flir’ora over what they were going to do about the damage to Mitth’raw’s beloved toy.

“You are making too much of it.” Kirg'eciami'ogoqh insisted. “Look for a pair of black buttons and replace them.”

“Do you think he won’t notice?” Rithu'teke'sernim snapped at her. “Mitth’raw notices *everything*. Just last month, my fiancé gave me a new scent to wear and he asked me if she was expecting me to propose yet.”

“You’re getting married at last?”

“No—I mean, yes—I mean—we were talking about it. Or rather we started talking about it because of what Mitth’raw said to me. And I guess we are—” Rithu'teke'sernim glared at Kirg'eciami'ogoqh. “And we’re not talking about me right now. We have to fix Admiral Sch’noz’zlar!”

“Or replace him.” Mitth’flir’ora suggested again as she turned towards where Jrott'omewo'uanuth was furiously tapping on a communications datapad. “How are we doing?”

“No good, no good.” The butler muttered urgently. “The gift shop cleared out most of the Xeno Exhibit imported toys when the exhibit moved. They only kept the popular pieces in stock and move the rest. That model which Mitth’raw has, unfortunately, isn’t popular. I’m trying to track down where the Exhibit has moved to.”

“In the meantime, if we can’t find a replacement?” Kirg'eciami'ogoqh picked up the toy and handed it to Zore'etaotha'usti. “Get some black buttons and sew that in place. Mitth’raw is sick right now, maybe he’ll overlook the difference.”

“Or the difference is so glaring he’ll think we substituted him anyway.” Rithu'teke'sernim was running his fingers through his hair in stress. “Mitth’raw carries Admiral Sch’noz’zlar with him *everywhere* he goes. He sits on the sink when he has a bath and even when he’s with his tutors, that toy is in his lap. I can’t believe I ruined him.”

“Calm down Rithu'teke'sernim,” Zore'etaotha'usti told him soothingly as she rummaged through her sewing kit. “We just have to try and get the correct size of buttons. Mitth’raw is still a child, black is black. Maybe he won’t notice.”

“Jrott'omewo'uanuth!” Rithu'teke'sernim rounded on the butler.

“I’m still checking! The exhibit moved from this fourth store ages ago. Why, oh why did Mitth’raw choose that particular toy? The shop girl expressed surprised at our interest, she didn’t sell a single one.”

“How many did she have left?”

“Only two—“

The five Chiss exchanged horrified glances. If two other younglings also had the same tastes and bought the toy…

Jrott'omewo'uanuth went back to furiously tapping at his datapad, while Zore'etaotha'usti laid out all the black buttons she could find in her sewing kit. Kirg'eciami'ogoqh stepped out for a moment and came back with some bottles of ale.

“Really, Kirg'eciami'ogoqh. Is this a good time for alcohol?” Rithu'teke'sernim didn’t stop his pacing, though he accepted the open bottle.

Kirg'eciami'ogoqh shrugged. “It is what it is. And Zore'etaotha'usti? Don’t you even have two buttons of the same size?”

“This is a mending kit.” Zore'etaotha'usti protested defensively. “I don’t actually sew whole outfits. Anyway, we just have to determine the size of button we need and Jrott'omewo'uanuth can take Rithu'teke'sernim to go pick them up at the store. Well—actually most of the stores would be closed by now, but I have a contact who will open up again to return a favour he owes to me.”

The four converged to stare at the soft toy, leaving Jrott'omewo'uanuth to his task of locating the Exhibit; just thankful that the exhibit had been moving East and so increasing his ease of communicating with museum gift stores that were still open due to the time difference.

Kirg'eciami'ogoqh picked up Admiral Sch’noz’zlar and squinted along it’s long snout. “Where exactly were those two eyes supposed to go anyway?”

Mitth’flir’ora lifted her hands in a show of helplessness. “Thraw moved here shortly after he received Admiral Sch’noz’zlar. You all have had more contact with him than I have.”

“He’s *never* out of Mitth’raw’s arms.” Rithu'teke'sernim had taken to wringing his hands in his vest now. “I don’t know if any of us have ever had a good look at the thing. We’re doomed.”

“You mean you’re doomed.” Kirg'eciami'ogoqh told him heartlessly. “You’re the one who washed him.”

“And he needed it! Ack! There was so much snort and slime and—.”

“Too Much Information, Rithu'teke'sernim.” Mitth’flir’ora interrupted him quickly.

“Nnooooo!” All eyes turned on Jrott'omewo'uanuth.

“What happened? Were they sold?”

“No, they weren’t and the Exhibit has already finished its tour and the art pieces dispersed to the various people who sponsored or bought them.” Jrott'omewo'uanuth put down the datapad dejectedly.

“And the toys?”

“They’re being redistributed to the various museums that the Exhibit toured to.”

“Then if the toys weren’t sold we can ask—“

“They were disposed of.”

“Wha—what?”

“The shop girl said that they didn’t want to waste money on excess shipping costs for unsalable goods, so the last two pieces were written off and disposed of as little bits of useless baggage.”

And with these words, the five Chiss suddenly understood why Mitth’raw loved his unusual little toy so much.

“Where and what size?” Mitth’flir’ora grabbed up a few black buttons to slide them up and down Admiral Sch’noz’zlar's long snout.

“We can try to distract Mitth’raw from noticing the differences.” Kirg'eciami'ogoqh reached for Zore'etaotha'usti’s sewing kit as well. “Zore'etaotha'usti you have bits of patch cloth, right? Can we make Admiral Sch’noz’zlar a colourful jacket of some sort? Maybe some accessories?”

“He isn’t a doll, Kirg'eciami'ogoqh.” Zore'etaotha'usti told her cautiously as she grabbed back her sewing kit from the warrior. “I don’t think Mitth’raw will understand if we tried to dress him up.”

“Then maybe we can give him something simple?” Kirg'eciami'ogoqh suggested. “Something—anything to distract him from noticing that we’ve changes his eyes. A bright red bow! How about that?”

Mitth’flir’ora took a deep breath and nodded. So, they had a game plan:

  * Decide on a button size;
  * Call on the friend of Zore'etaotha'usti to reopen his store though it was the middle of the night;
  * Buy the pair of buttons;
  * Sew it into the place where they thought it would go;
  * Tied a red bow on Admiral Sch’noz’zlar’s neck before they returned him to Thraw;



Then hope for the best.

* * *

Mitth’gur’safis could feel an air of tension in the room when Zore'etaotha'usti woke them to have breakfast. He wasn’t paying too much attention to it though as he checked on his two boys. Thras was a yawning sleepy boy all too glad to just turn around to go back to sleep, but Thraw was still peacefully fast asleep. It was gratifying to know that the little boy’s fever had broken and though he was still pale, he did looking a lot better as compared to the previous day.

“Come on, Mitth’ras. Up you get for a wash up, and I’ll serve you breakfast in bed shortly.” Rithu'teke'sernim lifted the boy from the bed again to get him to wake up.

“Just 5 more minutes.”

“Now, dearie.” Rithu'teke'sernim patted the boy on the back and nudged him towards the door to return to his room.

“Sir?” Zore'etaotha'usti looked at Mitth’gur’safis as he got up with Thraw still a slumbering bundle in his arms.

“It’s all right, I’ll give him a warm bath and change his pyjamas. I believe you’ll want to change the sheets.”

“Right, Sir. Yes, that is needed.”

There was something up. Mitth’gur’safis couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he was soon distracted as Thraw woke up as he was easing the boy into a warm bath.

“Father?”

Mitth’gur’safis almost dropped him.

“Is that all right?” Thraw worriedly looked up at him from the tub. “That—that I call you that?”

“Yes.” Mitth’gur’safis smiled softly as he kissed him on the forehead. “Yes, I like that very much, my son.”

Thraw smiled happily at him as he accepted the soap and began to wash the sweat off his body while his father helped to scrub his back. It didn’t take very long for the little lad to be clean and Mitth’gur’safis gently helped him to pat dry with his towel, and lent a hand to steady him for the rest of his toilet needs, before dressing Thraw in a fresh pair of pyjamas.

By the time Mitth’gur’safis returned to the room, Zore'etaotha'usti and Rithu'teke'sernim had already changed the sheets and were helping a newly cleaned up and changed Thras back in bed. The elder brother happily accepted Thraw back into his arms, and Mitth’gur’safis promised his swift return after he’d had a chance for a wash up himself.

The tension was still there when Mitth’gur’safis returned to the room to have an indulgent breakfast in bed with his sons. Again, Mitth’gur’safis had more concern for his boys as he and Thras carefully helped Thraw with his porridge. The little boy really couldn’t afford to not eat. Additionally, he needed to have an adequate amount of food in his stomach before they could allow him to take some of the medicine the doctor had prescribed to him.

The nagging strangeness in the air peaked when Thraw at last refused to take anymore and pushed the bowl away to look up at Rithu'teke'sernim. “Can I have Admiral Sch’noz’zlar back, please?”

Rithu'teke'sernim, the poor man, seemed about ready to jump out of his skin. Mitth’gur’safis had a sinking feeling in his gut then that something bad had happened to his son’s soft toy.

“Rithu'teke'sernim?” Mitth’gur’safis couldn’t help the bit of anger in his cool tone as he felt Thraw’s tiny hand clutch at the cloth of his pants leg.

“It’s all right. He’s here, he’s here” Thfliro came rushing into the room with a very much cleaner looking Admiral Sch’noz’zlar dressed up with a red bow.

“He was a brave, little Admiral.” Kirg'eciami'ogoqh was quick to come in on the heels of his daughter as she passed the soft toy back into Thraw’s joyfully reaching arms. “We were all quite anxious about him last night, but he’s all better now. See? He’s even got a pretty bow!”

Mitth’gur’safis did not miss the light kick Rithu'teke'sernim aim at Kirg'eciami'ogoqh’s ankle for her words. Looking down at his son, the Patriarch of the Eighth Ruling Family noticed the tiny frown on his face as he examined his soft toy.

“Thraw?”

“His eyes are different.”

The four Chiss standing in the room stiffened at this pronouncement, bringing Mitth’gur’safis’ glare upon them. Before he could say anything though, Jrott'omewo'uanuth quickly poked his head into the room.

“Oh, but poor Admiral Sch’noz’zlar was really quite sick last night, young sir. And his eyesight was suffering so badly, we had to arrange emergency surgery for the little dear. But he has new eyes now that he can better use to see.”

Everyone in the room stared at the Butler, while Kirg'eciami'ogoqh just slapped a hand over her face. Mitth’gur’safis was totally at loss for words now. But a giggle from his side brought his attention back to his youngest son who was hugging his soft toy to his chest as his finger circled one of the new button eyes.

“I suspected they were in danger of falling off for some time now. Thank you for giving him new eyes.”  

The collective sigh of relief from his staff was almost palpable.

Mitth’gur’safis couldn’t help the snort of laughter from escaping him as he began to imagine what must have happened when his staff and daughter realised Thraw’s soft toy had lost a pair of eyes in the wash. And that was enough to set them all off to laugh and guffaw in relief for the tension that they had been put though the previous night.

Thraw looked up at his grinning brother in puzzlement. “Are they okay?”

“They’ll be just fine.” Thras patted his brother on the head as he peered at Admiral Sch’noz’zlar. “Did they put his new eyes where they’re supposed to be?”

“It’s about right.” Thraw lifted his toy to look at it critically. “It’s like he has irises now though. Just like us. Or at least his smaller eyes have them.”

“If you want, we can send Admiral Sch’noz’zlar in for another round of surgery to replace his larger eyes too.”

Thraw clutched the soft toy against his chest protectively. “Not if he doesn’t need them. They can be replaced when he loses those eyes.”

“Okay.” Thras dropped a wink towards the Mitth household staff, setting them off again in a good laugh.

“I want the story.” Mitth’gur’safis mouthed at his daughter as he gave her a significant look.

Thfliro grinned weakly at her father as she made a hands-up gesture of haplessness at him. She couldn’t deny that it was going to make a good story now that it was one which they knew ended in laughter and not tears.

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple more chapters to go, but they're battling with me at a moment, so I hope I can get it done by the middle of the week, if not the weekend.


	5. Promise of a Future

Sev’eere’nuruodo huffed to herself in exasperation as she acknowledged the loss on the Csun’bi Sirim online network. In truth, she did not play very often and the game was more of an indulgence when she had the time. However, this didn’t mean she liked losing.

Checking her game settings, she was pleased to see that she had recorded the game play for later review. Veeren was resolved to study the recording of her game, when she next had a free moment, to analyse where she could have made a different move to reclaim the advantage from her opponent.

It had been a hard battle until one point where she had struggled to survive. Her eventually defeat was a blow to her ego. However, a cursory examination of this opponent’s records to date showed her that this was just one more win added to the multitude accumulated so far by this new unknown player who had been sweeping the boards of late. In all the years that she had been playing the game on line, it was unprecedented to have a brand-new player suddenly making fools of most of the usual top players on the network.

To be fair, Veeren knew there were many a Professional player hiding in the crowd, just for the opportunity to play without the added pressure of a critical audience. However, they’d usually be eventually ‘identified’ and just politely given the illusion of anonymity. This new player, however, was very different.

She had been watching the steady progress of player Myst-R5 ever since he appeared on the network for some weeks now, and this was one player she wished was not hiding behind the anonymity of the game. And unfortunately, with so many jockeying for a chance to play against this new blood, she knew that it was going to be quite a while before she’d get another shot at this opponent.

‘Thank you for the honour of this game.’

‘Thank you too. I hope we can meet again soon.’ She tapped back, sorry to see the board dissolve and bring her back to the home screen.

“Aristocra Sev’eere’nuruodo, we are approaching Csilla. Please be prepared for entry procedures.” The cool voice of her second came over the speakers.

“Received and acknowledge. Thank you. I will see you on deck shortly.”

Four months she had been away from Csilla. However, Veeren knew she had little worry of the state of affairs she’d left behind. Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis was a steady reliable man she could count on to manage their joint holdings and duties with her father.

However, barely a week into her journey, Veeren received a note from her laughing father that Mitth’gur’safis was entering into young parenthood again. It had admittedly shocked her to think that the man would consider taking a second wife, until her father enlightened her to the news that the Patriarch of the Eighth Ruling Family had picked up two Merit Adoptees.

Sev’eere’nuruodo reached for her datapad and tapped over to her calendar to take note of the appointment which her secretary had set up for her to have tea at the estates of the Eighth Ruling Family slightly over a week after her return planet side. This suited her well. Normally, she had no patience with younglings, but Veeren was about eaten up with curiosity over these two children that Mitth’gur’safis had brought into his family. The man was a curmudgeon who normally scared younglings. How had these two weaved their charm over him to be Merit Adopted?

* * *

“Mitth’raw!”

The young Chiss cringed as he tried to stuff the datapad under Admiral Sch’noz’zlar to hide it, but he also knew he wasn’t fooling Mitth’gur’safis one bit. The patriarch of the Eighth Ruling Family firmly strode into his son’s darkened bedroom and clicked on the bedside light before he took a seat on the bed to face his youngest son.

Thraw slowly drew out the datapad to hand it over when Mitth’gur’safis held a hand out for it. “I’m sorry, father.”

Mitth’gur’safis sighed as he leaned in to kiss his son on the forehead in reassurance. “Thraw, you *know* you’re supposed to be resting.”

“I’m bored…” The little boy hugged Admiral Sch’noz’zlar to his chest petulantly. “I can’t be expected to sleep all day and all night too.”

Mitth’gur’safis set the datapad aside and moved closer to pull the little boy into his arms. “But you’re still not over your cold, and you do need to rest, my boy.”

“It was just one game…”

“Csun’bi Sirim is not a simple short game.” Mitth’gur’safis snorted at him. “I’ve seen the time stamp on the games you sometimes get engaged in and your shortest yet was still 4 hours.” He raised a finger to tapped Thraw on the head. “This is the part that needs the rest just as much as your body.

“Dr. Greq’obate’ferdarg is starting to get very upset with you for ignoring his advice and Kirg’eciami’ogoqh is going to be angry with you too if you keep this up.” Mitth’gur’safis warned him. “She will regret ever introducing you to the online community if you’re going to hurt yourself playing when you should be resting.”

“But that’s unfair. I—”

Unfortunately, Thraw’s protests are overtaken by a horrible coughing fit that has Thras sprinting into his room to find their father quickly undoing the tiny boy’s Pyjamas top. Grabbing and opening the jar for them, the two quickly smeared the warming medicinal paste over Thraw’s chest and back, the scent of it also helping to ease the muscle spasms and make it easier for him to breathe. By the time Thraw managed to control the coughing fit, he had tears in his eyes as their father gently buttoned up his Pyjamas again and eased his exhausted body back against his pillows.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Mitth’raw. Be responsible about your own limitations.” Mitth’gur’safis gently dabbed the tears from his youngest son’s face with a hanky while he employed his other arm to give his older child a reassuring hug.

Mitth’gur’safis quickly looked at Thras and glanced at the door, giving the boy a hint that he wished some privacy for a little while. Thras hesitated only a moment before he nodded and left. Mitth’gur’safis knew without a doubt that his elder son was going to grab a pillow and an additional blanket to wait outside the door until they were done, before coming in to spend the night with his brother.

They watched the door close behind Thras before Mitth’gur’safis would speak again. “I know it’s frustrating when you’re sick, but let’s not rush things. Set aside challenging yourself again for when you’re well. You scared your brother when you first came down with a fever, Thraw. You’re scaring him again with this persistent cough that we’re all afraid will move down into your lungs.”

“I’m sorry. But I’m just so bored, father…” Thraw didn’t usually whine, but Mitth’gur’safis could see that his son was deeply frustrated with his weakness and his confinement to room and bed.

“Why don’t we do this? We’ll have Rithu’teke’sernim set up a daybed for you in my study and you can read there while I work. How does that sound?”

Thraw perked up a little as he looked up at his father. “We can?”

“Yes, and the Csun’bi Sirim board is there too, so Kirg’eciami’ogoqh can have a game with you when you’re feeling better. But you have to listen to her when she says you have to go lie down and rest again.”

“I will, I will.”

“And no more network Csun’bi Sirim until you’re better.”

“Oh.” Thraw deflated a little. “They—they won’t delete my account if—if I don’t play for a while, will they?”

“No.” Mitth’gur’safis chuckled at him. “Only you can purge your own account. You’ve built quite a reputation online already, have you?”

Thraw blushed awkwardly, “I— never really paid much attention to that, actually. There are just a few—well several good games that I recorded and which I’d like to review and go over.

“The—the last game I just finished was—particularly good.” Thraw looked up at his father guiltily.

Mitth’gur’safis just shook his head as he heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Well, you’re now officially grounded, Mitth’raw. No online Csun’bi Sirim until you’re better.”

Mitth’gur’safis slid off the bed and tucked his sick son back under his blankets. “Now, it’s way past your bedtime, and I want you to go to sleep. And I’m not letting you have this datapad back until Dr. Greq’obate’ferdarg has told me that you’ve improved significantly.”

“I’m sorry.” Thraw repeated softly as he looked up at Mitth’gur’safis whilst he tucked Admiral Sch’noz’zlar under the blankets with him.

Mitth’gur’safis ran a gentle hand through his son’s hair. “I know. You need to look after yourself and not fight us when we try and take care of you, Thraw. Especially when you’re sick.”

“I hate being sick.”

“No one likes being sick. But you can only get better faster if you follow the instructions of your doctor.”

Thraw let out a very put-upon sigh. “Okay.”

Mitth’gur’safis gave him a kiss on his forehead and clicked off the bedside light. “Go to sleep, Thraw. And I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll go to speak with Rithu’teke’sernim right now about what we spoke of.”

“Thank you, father. I’m— I’m   sorry to be a bother.”

“Oh, Thraw.” Mitth’gur’safis bent to hug him and Admiral Sch’noz’zlar over their blankets. “We don’t mind, truly. We just want you to be well again.”

“I’ll rest, father.” Thraw yawned. Mitth’gur’safis guessing the poor boy was well tired out now after a challenging game, having that horrendous coughing bout and then engaging in this serious chat with him.

Thras, as expected, was waiting for him when he exited Thraw’s room with the boy’s datapad in his hand.

“Don’t you catch Thraw’s cold too, young man.” Mitth’gur’safis kissed the boy on the forehead; also in reassurance that his head wasn’t overly warm with fever.

“I’ll be fine, father.” Thras gave him a fierce hug before slipping into his younger brother’s room.

Mitth’gur’safis stayed at the door a short while longer, listening to Thraw’s murmuring protest that he didn’t need to be babied and could be trusted to go straight to sleep. Thras was not going to be denied though. Mitth’gur’safis knew that these past few weeks of Thraw’s seemingly unrelenting bout with illness had greatly distressed the elder boy.

He suspected Thras might try to get him to write a letter to the school again to excuse him from classes. He’d think about it in the morning, Thras would be a great help in settling Thraw into a new routine. However, Mitth’gur’safis also had the suspicion that if Thraw got his way, Thras wasn’t going to be allowed to skip too many more days of school because of him.

Looking further down the corridor as he left his sons’ rooms, Mitth’gur’safis noticed Kirg’eciami’ogoqh waiting in the shadows.

“I apologise, Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis, for introducing Mitth’raw to the online gaming platform.” She bowed to him as he drew closer.

He patted her shoulder. “No, there is no need, Commander. It *was* good of you to do so.” Mitth’gur’safis assured her. “Thraw has little interaction with others outside this household as it is until he’s ready to attend a proper school. I am very agreeable to his supervised access to the world at large.”

“Only he’s too clever in bypassing the parental locks to give himself full access.” Kirg’eciami’ogoqh smirked at him wryly.

“Don’t remind me.” Mitth’gur’safis sighed sourly. “At least he has confined his explorations to the Csun’bi Sirim network.”

“He’s caused quite a stir on line.” Kirg’eciami’ogoqh’s eyes glinted at him. “But Jrott’omewo’uanuth has ensured that his identity remains unknown behind the user name, and that the server cannot be traced back to this estate.”

“Good man.” Mitth’gur’safis nodded in approval. “If he’s already stirring up so much attention as an unknown, I can’t imagine the uproar that will emerge if any of his opponents find out his real age.”

“More than a few out there could do with being taken down a peg or two.” Kirg’eciami’ogoqh grinned at him.

“You’re being evil, Commander.” Mitth’gur’safis waved a finger at her playfully. “But there’ll be no more online gaming for a while for Thraw.”

“The online community will be heartbroken.”

“Let them. His health is more important.”

“Of course, Patriarch.” Kirg’eciami’ogoqh scoffed. “Let them miss his presence. Though I’m sure a few might even be relieved to have a respite from seeing so many of their numbers fall to humiliating defeats.”

* * *

Veeren frowned as she checked the online Csun’bi Sirim game again, noting that Myst-R5 hadn’t reappeared since her last game with him/her a few days ago. That was a huge pity, she was itching for a rematch. She hoped he/she returned. Veeren had checked on all of Myst-R5’s publicly viewable games. This player was extraordinary. He/she learned and adapted fast in his/her games. Rarely losing. Sometimes utterly destroying his/her opponent.

She hoped the player hadn’t become bored with the competition he/she was facing. She didn’t want to even consider that the player might be facing some calamity which restricted his/her game time.

The sideboard chatter was rife with speculation over who Myst-R5 was. The consensus seemed to be that he/she wasn’t a Professional player. However, an argument had cropped up that his/her game play appeared to strongly suggest that Myst-R5 could be in the military. No one could agree on this point.

The only thing which could be confidently said about the player was that his/her home server was on Csilla. This pointed towards the possibility that the player wasn’t in the military, or if he/she was he/she belonged to a household Phalanx.

Veeren mulled over the thought. The only Csilla bound military personnel she knew of note in the world of Csun’bi Sirim players was Kirg’eciami’ogoqh, the Commander of Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis’ Household Phalanx. But she had played a few games with Geciamio before and Veeren was quite sure that Myst-R5 didn’t feel like her. Still, it would be nice to reconnect with her old academy classmate again and perhaps entice her opinion on this new blood on the Csun’bi Sirim network.

* * *

“Are you sure, Thraw?” Thras asked his brother one more. “I’m sure father can—”

Thraw firmly held down his cough as he waved his brother off. “Yes, I am, Thras. I am recovering now. And you’ve been away from school far too long because of me.”

“You’re more important than School.”

“Not when the midterm exams are encroaching.” Thraw insisted firmly. “You may be sailing along in your classes, but you want the distinctions. Not just the A.”

“But—”

“You also shouldn’t leave Srosu’onara’aqa hanging too long without giving her some reassurance.”

Thras did a double take on his brother. “How did you—?”

“You just confirmed it.” Thraw crowed at his brother in delight before he was suddenly overtaken by a coughing fit which had their father quickly leaving his desk to sit beside Thraw and soothingly rubbing his back.

“Mitth’ras, I have him.” Mitth’gur’safis waved the boy off with Thraw also making a more dismissive gesture of shooing him away. “Jrott’omewo’uanuth is already out-front waiting for you. You don’t want to be late for school.”

Thras was clearly torn between being stubborn about it or departing as his little brother wanted him to. However, he couldn’t deny that Thraw had been steadily improving since they made up a daybed for him in their father’s study. Being without a datapad and solely relying on paper bound books apparently also made it easier to be tired from holding the hardcover, picture heavy tooms that Thraw preferred. He probably napped more in one day than he did the last several days confined in his own room.

However, while he did enjoy attending school more than he originally thought he would, Thras was also rather sensitive about his friend’s opinions about his sickly little brother. While most did understand and tried to accommodate him, they rather thought Thras’ overprotectiveness was holding him back from embracing a full experience of living his own life. But it still made him feel guilty for seemingly ‘abandoning’ his responsibility to Thraw.

“I’ll really be okay, Thras. Don’t be late for school because of me. You’ll get teased about being a nagging old aunt again.”

Thras scowled at his little brother. It hadn’t helped that his friends had seen and heard Thraw encouraging him to make his own plans, rather than try and plan around his little brother’s activities. Well, at least he knew most of his friends liked and were quite fascinated by his genius little brother.

“All right... I’ll go but—”

“If there is any change for the worse, or anything serious, you have my word that I’ll have Jrott’omewo’uanuth retrieve you from school, Mitth’ras.” Their father told him solemnly as he helped Thraw to hold a mug to drink a warm herbal concoction.

Thras sighed as he nodded to acknowledge their father’s promise. “Very well. Have a good day, father. Thraw.”

“Study hand, son.”

“Oh, run already, before you’re late.” Thraw waved him off with an impatience a tiny dictator would be proud of.

Thras gave him a laugh as he grabbed his bookbag and ran out of the study as suggested.

As soon as the door slid shut after Thras’ departure, Thraw practically slumped against his father in exhausted relief.

“Son?” Mitth’gur’safis set the half-drunk mug aside and placed the back of his hand on Thraw’s forehead worriedly.

Thraw yawned as he batted his father’s hand away. “Just tired.” The tiny boy assured him. “Thras can be exhausting when he’s being overly protective.”

“That he can, child.” Mitth’gur’safis laughed with him as he lay his son back upon his pillows and securely tucked him under the blankets with Admiral Sch’noz’zlar. “I’ll get you up again in a couple of hours for your next dose, all right?”

“Can I have the datapad back yet?”

Mitth’gur’safis sighed inwardly as he noted that Thraw still wouldn’t use the possessive term for anything apart from Admiral Sch’noz’zlar. And he knew he hadn’t exactly helped the matter by confiscating his datapad to stop him from playing his online games.

“Dr. Greq’obate’ferdarg still has final say on when I can return *your* datapad, my boy.” Mitth’gur’safis told the sleepy child softly as he carded his fingers through Thraw’s hair, hoping he’d take note of the tiny emphasis in his words.

“Won’t play a new game. Promise.” Thraw murmured back to him. “I just wanted to review that last game before I forget.”

“We’ll see...” There’d be no response though as Thraw was already deep in his dream world.

As he left his son to return to his paperwork, Mitth’gur’safis looked at his Csun’bi Sirim board with its current ongoing game thoughtfully. Even sick, Thraw could still give Kirg’eciami’ogoqh a challenging game. He’d already won six of their ten games to date with two draws when the Commander thought to introduce him to the online Csun’bi Sirim network to share in their ‘misery’ of frequently losing to a five-year-old. Mitth’gur’safis thought that ploy was backfiring on Kirg’eciami’ogoqh quite spectacularly. Because with more opponents to play with and learn from, little Thraw was now defeating them quite crushingly.

Mitth’gur’safis wondered what was so special about that last game. Unfortunately, Kirg’eciami’ogoqh was unable to enlighten him as Thraw’s opponent had marked it as ‘Private’. The gameplay was only viewable to the public if both players were agreeable to share it. Thraw hadn’t minded making his games public, but this opponent apparently was particular about privacy. If they wanted to see the game, Thraw would have to sign them into his account.

It wasn’t that Mitth’gur’safis didn’t trust Thraw, but Dr. Greq’obate’ferdarg had made him promise that he wouldn’t return Thraw’s datapad to him for another week. The old doctor had been furious with him when he accidentally let it slip that Thraw had let himself get too absorbed in his online games rather than resting. Since the legal age to open an account was 13, the doctor had threatened to report him and get Thraw’s account suspended.

Mitth’gur’safis knew it wasn’t that Greq’obate’ferdarg wanted to be cruel to Thraw. The old doctor was genuinely upset about the little boy taking much too long to recover from what should have been a simple cold. And he had been especially worried when the cough got worse and descended into the bronchi.

While Mitth’gur’safis was quite sure the threat to suspend Thraw’s online account was an empty threat, he wasn’t taking any chances. They absolutely couldn’t let Thraw be tempted into a new game while Greq’obate’ferdarg was monitoring the account.

However... The doctor didn’t say anything about Thraw being allowed to review his old games. And if they left Thraw’s datapad in Kirg’eciami’ogoqh hands... Mitth’gur’safis grinned as he shoved his paperwork aside to pick up his own datapad to check a few online stores.

* * *

Veeren was starting to feel a little worried. Myst-R5 hadn’t accepted a new game in nearly a week now. The online Csun’bi Sirim network had been similarly buzzing with speculation over the sudden dormancy, wondering if the remarkable player had grown bored with the quality of opponents he/she had faced and left, or if the player was dealing with a crisis in real life and had been forced to leave.

She couldn’t believe how invested she’d become in this player after just one game. It wasn’t like her to obsess so much over a game. But when she reviewed the games that Myst-R5 engaged in, Veeren knew she had to track the player down.

Myst-R5 was still young. She was sure of it. A young, budding, brilliant strategist that she knew she just had to meet and encourage to join the academy if he/she wasn’t already there. She had even called the academy to check, and the headmaster had outright laughed at her suggestion regarding any of his current cohort having a mind so dazzling as to catch her attention. Veeren was NOT about to let this youth be sucked into a quiet life as a Professional Csun’bi Sirim player when the Chiss Expansionary Defence Force could make better use of this brilliance.

It was really making her look forward to the tea with Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis and hope Geciamio wasn’t on duty when she arrived. She was determined to grill her old academy classmate to see if she knew of any gossip on the ground about player Myst-R5.

* * *

Thraw was staring at the new Csun’bi Sirim board for so long it was starting to worry Mitth’gur’safis. “Thraw, child? Is this all right? I just thought you might like your own Csun’bi Sirim set. If you prefer a different woodgrain we can send this back and choose—”

The little boy looked up at him with shining eyes. “Really? This is for me?” His voice was so choked, Mitth’gur’safis was worried that Thraw was on the brink of another coughing fit.

“Yes.” Mitth’gur’safis sat on the bed beside him to poke a finger at the mesh bag of polished white stones. “You can still play with my set, of course. I just thought you might want a set of your own for reviewing the games that you play onlin—”

Mitth’gur’safis was cut short by the almost choking hug around his neck as his son almost sobbed his thanks against his head for this thoughtful gift. He was almost stunned by this seemingly disproportionate gratitude. It reminded him of a similar gratitude Thras had expressed to him the previous month when he presented the boy a set of season tickets for an arthouse theatre after the boy had expressed interest in some of the plays he had in the library— Oh ...

He had always been a generous man. Mitth’gur’safis had ensured the boys were well equipped and were wont of little. However...  truly thoughtful gifts that the boys would never have asked for, not bound to necessitates... Mitth’gur’safis realised then that those were probably the first ever that they’d received from him, or from anyone for that matter. And Mitth’gur’safis made a vow to himself that these won’t be the last. Then maybe... they’d finally drop the twitchy worry that he noticed would rise now and then that he’d return them to the institute when he was done playing ‘father’ for a while.

“Thraw, oof. If you could loosen your hold, the gift isn’t finished yet.”

“But this is enough, father. I don’t need anymore?” Thraw loosened his grip to look at him in puzzlement.

“Well, the truth is, there is also more to be done to accommodate Dr. Greq’obate’ferdarg; who is watching your online Csun’bi Sirim network account and will charge in on us breathing fire and brimstone if he sees you start a new game.”

As he’d hoped, the incongruous description of the kindly old doctor made Thraw giggle. “So, on her next break, Kirg’eciami’ogoqh will use your datapad with you to get logged in and you can download the games you want to review and quickly log out again. Then she can help you lay the stones for the games and moves you want to review.”

“While you can confidently tell Dr. Greq’obate’ferdarg without guilt that *you* didn’t give me back my datapad or help me get online again.” Thraw continued for him, “Also, since my opponent of this game I wanted to review marked it ‘private’, he wouldn’t know from looking at the physical board that this was a game from the network. So, he wouldn’t even know I logged in for a short while unless he’s connected enough to ask the administrators for my login time stamps.”

“Exactly.” Mitth’gur’safis grinned at him. “Now, Jrott’omewo’uanuth and Rithu’teke’sernim have put together a schedule of when Dr. Greq’obate’ferdarg randomly logs in to check on your presence. And as long as Kirg’eciami’ogoqh gets you in during those windows, we’ll be fine.”

“If he logs in at random times how is there a schedule?”

“Dr. Greq’obate’ferdarg is creature of order and habit, Thraw. He really couldn’t be random to save his life.”

Thraw giggled as he leaned in to hug his father again. “Thank you so much, father.”

“It’s my pleasure, my son.”

* * *

Mitth’gur’safis was frustrated with himself. He knew that he’d been much too clever in his scheduling to arrange for Dr. Greq’obate’ferdarg to check on Thraw in the morning when he was expecting Aristocra Sev’eere’nuruodo for tea later that afternoon. The old doctor had been very pleased with Thraw’s progress and gave them the good news that the cough had conclusively left the bronchi. Mitth’gur’safis was hoping that he’d finally let his son be out and about again.

Unfortunately, he still was not relenting on complete bed rest to get the rest of the cold out of Thraw’s system. With Thraw’s complaint of not being tired enough to sleep as much as the doctor desired of him, the wily old doctor changed his medication.

“You got him to sleep normally at night, but he’s still far too active in the day.” Dr. Greq’obate’ferdarg passed the new round of medicines to Mitth’gur’safis.

Mitth’gur’safis grimaced as he looked at where Thraw lay soundly asleep barely minutes after a dose of his new medicine. “Isn’t this a bit drastic?”

“Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis, what that boy really needs is more rest than he has allowed himself. So, this will help. Just a week and he should be back on his feet again and ready to play like any normal five-year-old.”

Mitth’gur’safis couldn’t help his snort of laughter. “Any ‘normal’ five-year-old? Doctor, did you check out the history of his online Csun’bi Sirim account.”

“Did I?” Greq’obate’ferdarg outright grinned at him. “Oh, the egos I could crush if I didn’t know for sure little Thraw would lose his account if his true age became known.

“I couldn’t do that to him, no matter my earlier threats. No, I realised this is the easiest way to make sure your boy actually sleeps and rests as much as his body really needs to.”

Mitth’gur’safis grimaced again. As true as the statement was, the timing couldn’t be more abysmal. Well, at least Kirg’eciami’ogoqh would be on break when the Aristocra visited. Perhaps they could catch up long enough for Thraw to wake up.

* * *

It was a very pleasant afternoon spent with one of her father’s oldest colleagues talking of their Ruling Family duties and news on Csilla. However, Veeren couldn’t help thinking that there was something missing. Something that Mitth’gur’safis had wanted to raise with her in person but was now declining to.

The matters they had discussed differed little to their usual correspondence and really, there was no need for a face to face meeting for the resolutions they’d reached that afternoon. And for that matter, they usually carried out these business discussions in his study and not the Visitor’s garden. Not that she’d complain about the beautiful garden atmosphere as compared to his ‘seat of power’.

When she casually mentioned the deviation to their norm though, Mitth’gur’safis had shaken his head to tell her that he’d set up a daybed for his sick son there to keep him company. And that their paediatrician had unfortunately given the boy a concoction to make him sleep the afternoon away.

“Oh, you had wanted me to speak with the boy?”

Mitth’gur’safis shrugged. “That was my hope.”

“Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis, my father warned me that these two boys have you twisted around their little fingers.”

He gave her a sheepish smile, acknowledging her gentle teasing. “I cannot deny it is well earned.”

And with that, they moved on to other matters until Kirg’eciami’ogoqh had her break and Mitth’gur’safis excused himself to let the two friends catch up.

* * *

“So, Geciamio, can I still not entice you to join me in the stars?”

Kirg’eciami’ogoqh laughed at her academy mate. “I am perfectly happy where I am taking care of the Mitth household, Veeren. I much prefer having my feet on solid ground at all times. I also lose enough of my young men to your recruitment efforts, I need to be sure the ones still staying are good enough to do House Mitth proud.”

“Oh, so... any particularly interesting candidates recently?”

“Even if I did have one, I’m not about to let you steal him from under me.”

“Are you sure a Household Phalanx is where he’d do the most good?”

“We have an unspoken agreement about this.” Geciamio looked at her suspiciously. “You’ve had no complaints of the last three I sent your way?”

“Oh no. They were excellent candidates.” Veeren assured her old friend. “But I was thinking of someone more recent...”

Geciamio rolled her eyes as she reached into the ice bucket that Rithu’teke’sernim thoughtfully supplied them and pulled out another two bottles of spirits. “Out with it, Veeren. You know I like clear plain speaking.”

“Oh, all right. I took up the challenge of opening an account on the online Csun’bi Sirim network like you suggested.”

“Good for you. So now you can finally play fairly without anyone trying to proposition the Aristocra of the Second Ruling Family.”

“Well, yes. I’ll admit you were right. And the experience has been more than pleasant.”

“I live but to serve.” Geciamio saluted her with her drink. “Get to the point.”

Veeren took a swig of her bottle before speaking again. “Player Myst-R5.”

“What of him?” Geciamio tried to keep a straight face.

“What? Have you not logged in this past month? He’s brilliant! He’s been cutting a swath through—”

Geciamio grinned as she counted backwards from 5. Veeren rounded on her at the count of 2.

“He?! Geciamio! You *know* who Myst-R5 is?!”

Geciamio sighed, “Look, Veeren. Even if I did know, and I’m not saying I do, he’s playing under a Pseudonym, just like you. He has as much right to his privacy as you do.”

“Geciamio, you don’t understand. I’ve been checking out all his past games. The youth is one of the best strategist I have ever had the pleasure to see growing before my eyes. The CEDF *must* have him. If I must Trial Adopt or fight to Trial Adopt him myself, I will, to get him into the academy.”

Geciamio had choked and sprayed her drink across the floor from surprise at her friend’s fervency. Just that morning, the Patriarch had spoken to her about Mitth’raw’s thwarted meeting with Aristocra Sev’eere’nuruodo. Given how sickly the child was, they had agreed that waiting a few more years might be prudent, and that it would give them time to build up Mitth’raw’s strength and health to have him ready to enter the academy, if that was still what he desired.

However, for Veeren, the Aristocra of the Second Family, to suggest Trial Adoption— to suggest challenging an already established Trial Adoption of someone she had yet to meet because she was impressed by his mind...

“Veeren... he is— not in the best of health...”

“Oh, is that why we haven’t seen him on line this past week?”

“Yes, but Veeren, I don’t think you quite get it. I mean that he does not have the most robust health—”

“Geciamio! With a mind that brilliant, we’re not going to endanger him on the frontlines. He will be on the command trek. You can’t say that all of the military personnel above the rank of Commodore are exactly at the epitome of health.”

Geciamio eyed her critically for a long cool moment, letting Veeren understand that her friend was being very protective of this youth. Someone she now realised was probably quite sickly.

“You’re afraid that I will be angry and disappointed in what I will find.” Veeren knew her words were clearly reflecting her friend’s mind. “Geciamio, I promise you, I will not. Even if the youth you show me is a paraplegic, I will not care. I will value him for his mind. That is all I care about.”

Geciamio snorted at her, breaking the sombre moment. “You sound almost in love.”

“And you’re stalling, woman. Come on. I promise I will not get angry.”

Geciamio still hesitated.

“Geciamio, please. I was that opponent in that last game he played when he disappeared. I barely survived being crushed, he was that good.”

“He let me see the game play... “ Geciamio nodded, “You nearly played him to a standstill. He was thrilled with the match.”

“But he trapped me in the end.” Veeren looked at her earnestly. “Please, Geciamio. I will beg if I must.”

“Don’t!” Geciamio rose to her feet hastily and gestured for the Aristocra to follow her. “Remember your promise, Veeren. I will not forgive you if you break your promise to me.”

“I, Sev’eere’nuruodo, Aristocra of the Second Ruling Family, give you my promise, Kirg’eciami’ogoqh, Commander of the Mitth House Phalanx, that I will neither be angry nor disappointed in the true identity of Player Myst-R5.”

Geciamio gave her a shocked look for her formal words, but didn’t challenge it. Instead, she led Veeren through the mansion to Mitth’gur’safis’ study, surprising her for the destination. Mitth’gur’safis bade them entry at their soft knock.

Veeren noted that he immediately came to his feet when he saw her following Geciamio into the Study. She had held a finger to her lips at his look and quick glance towards a daybed which had been set near one of the large picture windows. Veeren remembered then that Mitth’gur’safis had mentioned to her that his youngest had been sick and was currently installed in his study so that he could keep the boy company.

To Veeren’s surprise, Geciamio gestured for her to approach a pair of Csun’bi Sirim boards set in the centre of the room. She had done so out of curiosity, only to be shocked to see a very familiar arrangement on one of the boards. It was displaying her one game with Myst-R5.

On the second board though, was the same game up to where she had believed was the turning point of the game for her and led to her ultimate defeat, but with her stone at a different location to where she had placed it. A move which would have given her a slight reprieve from the trap he had set for her...

But why were these two configurations here, in this room—

Veeren stared at the two boards for a long moment as the pieces came together in her head and her eyes slowly drifted up towards the daybed where a tiny child lay sleeping. As if she was in a dream, Veeren turned her head to look at where Geciamio was staring at her with challenge in her eyes and Mitth’gur’safis watched her carefully radiating protectiveness for his child.

She couldn’t help herself. Veeren just threw herself upon the nearby sofa to bury her face in a convenient cushion and laughed until she cried.

“Veeren?” A tentative touch on her shoulder led her to carefully look up into Geciamio’s concerned look.

Veeren firmly held the cushion pressed to her mouth as her other hand pointed at the sleeping child and gesticulated at her. If Mitth’gur’safis thought she had gone quite mad, at least Geciamio understood her.

“Mitth’raw is five. And ‘yes’ he is player Myst-R5.”

Veeren buried her face into the cushion again. Five! Her mind was shrieking at her. She lost— to a *five* year old. And if the boards were true, he even figured out where she could have made a move which might have allowed her play to a draw, if not a narrower loss.

A hand on her shoulder brought her attention this time to Mitth’gur’safis who was looking at her worriedly as he offered her a drink from his bar. This time she sat up to place the cushion to one side while accepting the drink which she drank in one shot. She did likewise with the second and third glass, but stopped to only hold the fourth offering.

“He’s truly only five years old?” Her voice was hardly recognisable to herself.

Mitth’gur’safis shrugged, “You’d think he was younger from size alone, but yes Mitth’raw is just five.”

Some slight noise from the direction of the daybed had Mitth’gur’safis instantly departing to be replaced by Geciamio’s concern visage. “Are you okay?”

“Oooohhh, Geciamio, I’m really sorry to break my promise but I will be very angry with you if you do not help me convince Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis to promise this child to my family as Trial Adopted when he comes of age.”

“Oh, you— you really would still want him though he’s so...”

“This child is a *genius* at this age. What do you imagine he will be like when he’s an adult?” Veeren stared at her in shock. “Of course, I want him *even more*.”

“Your ego—”

“Is in tatters. Don’t get me wrong. I’m absolutely mortified that I lost to a five-year-old child...” Veeren almost started keening in pain as the thought struck her. “Oh, Ancestors give me strength... He was— is a sick child too, isn’t he? He was sick when he was playing all of us?”

“Welcome to the shared misery of the Mitth household. Where our resident five-year-old prodigy beats all of us hollow at the elegant game of Csun’bi Sirim.”

Veeren buried her face back in the cushion. The words were slightly muffled, but Geciamio could just about make out what she was screaming into the cushion. “A decade! I need to wait at least a *decade* to have him in the academy.”

Geciamio patted her on the shoulder comfortingly as she glanced over her own shoulder to see that Mitth’gur’safis was just helping little Thraw back to bed after a bathroom break. The patriarch was looking askance at her as he sat on the bed preparing Thraw’s next medicinal dose. She gestured for him to hold off giving it to the child and leaned in to check on her friend.

“Do you feel up to exchange a few words with our sick little boy?”

Veeren immediately sat up. “Oh, may I?”

Geciamio smiled as she pulled the Aristocra to her feet and discretely tried to finger comb her hair into some semblance of order. “I’m sure he will be thrilled to meet you.”

‘He’s so tiny and frail.’ Were the first thoughts in Veeren’s mind the moment she came close enough to have a good look at the younger of Mitth’gur’safis’ Merit Adoptees. A tiny boy who was staring nervously up at her with his strange little soft toy clutched tight in his arms in front of him.

“ Mitth’raw? This is Aristocra Sev’eere’nuruodo.” Mitth’gur’safis introduced them.

“Oh!”

Veeren quickly got on her knees beside the daybed and pressed the little boy back into his pillows. “No, no. Please don’t try to get up on my account.” She told him with a gentleness she never thought herself capable of expressing with a child. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mitth’raw.”

“I’m honoured to meet you, Aristocra Sev’eere’nuruodo.”

“I must say you play a very good game of Csun’bi Sirim, Mitth’raw.” She smiled at him sunnily, “I particularly liked the suggestion for my 87th move.”

Her smile grew wider at his ‘o’ of understanding. “I played *you* on my last game. Thank you! It was the most interesting one I’d played to date and a good one to stop at for a while.”

“That was an impressive suggestion. It would certainly have let me last a little longer in the game, though I doubt I could have changed my fate to win.”

“Are you so sure?” Thraw looked up at her shyly. “We could try playing our game from there to see?”

Before she could accept the challenge though, both Mitth’gur’safis and Geciamio cleared their throats beside them.

“I’m sorry, son.” Mitth’gur’safis apologised to them sheepishly. “But Dr. Greq’obate’ferdarg will have our hides if we let you have a game without his leave. And speaking of that...”

Thraw pouted when he saw the mug Mitth’gur’safis was holding in his hand, but obediently took it to quickly down the medicine as quickly as he could manage it. “He’s determined to spoil all my fun.”

“Just for this week.” Mitth’gur’safis chuckled as he passed his son a fruit gum to chew and swallow to rid his mouth of the medicinal taste. “You just need to sleep deeply in the day too for now, dear one. We’ll hope you’ll be finally clear of your cold and allowed out of bed at regular hours again next week.”

“Okay.” Thraw yawned mightily as the medicine quickly took effect.

“We’ll have our game another time, Mitth’raw.” Veeren assured the child taking his tiny hand in hers to give him a gentle squeeze as he blinked sleepily at her.

“I’d like that.” The boy was starting to slur slightly. “I’m glad to have met you, Aristocra Sev’eere’nuruodo.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you too, Mitth’raw.”

“You’re really petty.” He blinked slowly up at her. “I like the red eye liner that you put under your eyes. Much nicer than the Lilac Thras uses.”

Veeren purposefully ignored her smirking friend and the clearly amused Mitth’gur’safis to give all attention to the sleepy boy. “I’ll see if I can persuade your father to make this Naval accoutrement allowed to you in the future.”

Veeren stole a quick glance at the surprised Mitth’gur’safis before returning her gaze at the little boy, but Mitth’raw had clearly slipped into slumber. Reluctantly releasing the boy’s hand, Veeren looked up at the Patriarch of the Eighth Ruling Family to incline her head towards the door. Leaving Geciamio to watch over Thraw in his absence, Mitth’gur’safis faced her the moment they stepped out of the study.

“Mitth’raw is a remarkable child.” Veeren told him plainly. “I imagine his elder brother is equally impressive?”

Mitth’gur’safis smiled confidently. “I believe he has a talent for states craft.”

“And you will finally have a worthy successor. You’ve had remarkable fortune smile upon you for this new blood, Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis.” Veeren’s smile was almost vicious. “The Fifth Ruling family were fools indeed to let these two slip out of their reach.”

“And for their sake I’m glad I had the chance to take them before they changed their minds.” Mitth’gur’safis told her firmly. “These children needed kindness and patience.”

“They are a testament to your efforts.” Veeren nodded in praise. Then cut to the chase. “I formally request a promise, Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis; this child to my family.”

The clear surprise on Mitth’gur’safis’ face amused her. “Surely you expected this outcome? Why else did you ask that I visit?”

“Indeed. However, this is somewhat more than I expected, Aristocra Sev’eere’nuruodo, given Thraw’s...”

Veeren’s eyes narrowed at him. “Kirg’eciami’ogoqh was cautious on this subject too. I would know more of why you believe it matters when the child is so clearly brilliant.”

Mitth’gur’safis sighed as he gestured for her to follow him back to the Visitor’s garden. And while Veeren listened patiently to the father’s worries and concerns about the boy’s ill health she was firm in her conviction.

“Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis, I will not lose what is possibly going to grow into the most brilliant strategist and tactician of our life time to a board game.” Veeren told him firmly. “I understand your concerns about his ill health. But your son is still young and we can see to it that we use all means possible to overcome what we can. Who is your Herbalist?”

“Only the best in practice—”

“If it is who I suspect, my family can call in a favour to recall his retired Master for a private consultation. I also have connections with a Master of Martial Arts who specialises in heath matters. He assists my father with exercises and Katas to promote his heath and strengthen his constitution.” She smiled slyly at the elder man. “You might wish to avail of his services yourself.”

“Sev’eere’nuruodo...”

“The boy is a ‘nuruodo’, Mitth’gur’safis. Please promise him to me.” Veeren told him earnestly. “When he is of age, I see little doubt that he will fully embrace the name of Mitth’raw’nuruodo. His potential is in the stars and I would be honoured to guide him there.”

“Sev’eere’nuruodo...”

“I will beg and send my father to petition you—”

“Enough.” Mitth’gur’safis smiled at her, a rare expression. And very genuine, she was relieved to note. “I will formally promise Mitth’raw to the Second Ruling family to be Trial Adopted when he comes of age... *provided* his heath matters are no hindrance in joining the Naval trek you appear to be proposing.”

Veeren couldn’t fault the father’s caution and protectiveness. “Mitth’gur’safis, has Mitth’raw ever expressed to you what he might like to do as an adult.” She rather fervently hoped it had little to do with Csun’bi Sirim.

“Oh, Mitth’raw— had confided in me that he *would* like to see the stars and serve the CEDF.” Mitth’gur’safis reluctantly admitted.

A wry smile pulled upon Mitth’gur’safis’ lips. “However, I would also confess to you now, Sev’eere’nuruodo, my son’s true obsession is not Csun’bi Sirim, but art. That is how I came to know him and what made me decide to take him and his brother as *my* sons. His insight of a race that an artist belongs to is truly remarkable.”

“Is it now?” Her curiosity perked. “My secretary did tell me you had asked her about whether I owned any Vaagari art.”

“He described to me what a Frunchettan-sai looked like by studying a sculpture made by one of their artists.” Mitth’gur’safis told her solemnly. “He gave me the psychological profile and a fairly accurate description of the home planet of another by looking at a painting.”

Veeren blinked at him. This was very interesting indeed. Knowing Mitth’gur’safis, this wasn’t an idle boast. She thought that there may be some contraband art that she could sign out from the CEDF vaults for this experiment.

“Interesting... I will want to see this...”

“You have my open invitation to visit to speak with Mitth’raw. And for that game you promised him. Just not this week.”

“I will dispatch the Grand Master Herbalist, he can assist in helping Mitth’raw improve his constitution.”

“As much as he is able to, I’m sure.”

Veeren was tiring of this back and forth. She could understand the father’s worry for his son’s health and wellbeing, but she wasn’t leaving this mansion without a sure and solid promise with no more caveats.

“Mitth’raw is a special child... you have the pledge of the Second Ruling Family to do all that we can to help him realise his full potential.” Veeren assured him gravely. “Mark my words, Patriarch Mitth’gur’safis... If you would agree to let me have any say in this, his name *will* *be* Mitth’raw’nuruodo. And he will be the greatest strategist and tactician the Ascendancy will ever know.”

Mitth’gur’safis gave her a long-measured look. “You are this determined to have a formal *irrevocable* promise?”

“I am.”

“Then I will give you my promise to let you Trial Adopt Mitth’raw when he comes of age.”

“Thank you, Patriarch.” She seized his hand a touch rudely to quickly seal the agreement. But Veeren wasn’t about to let Mitth’gur’safis add any wiggle room to allow him to later withdraw her access to the most promising young strategist she had ever the pleasure to discover.

* * *

As he sat on the bed beside his slumbering son, gently combing his fingers through the boy’s hair, Mitth’gur’safis had to reflect that this meeting with Sev’eere’nuruodo had gone far stronger in the direction he had thought of than he originally hoped. It rather surprised him that the Aristocra actually desperately wanted to Trial Adopt Thraw in spite of his obvious ill health.

Barely hours after her departure, the Sev household butler had arrived with several gift boxes of books on strategy, military tactics and even a manual on military Warcraft. From her behaviour, Mitth’gur’safis suspected Sev’eere’nuruodo was going to take a personal interest in mentoring Thraw straight into the CEDF Academy. Kirg’eciami’ogoqh had laughingly confirmed that Sev’eere’nuruodo had been desperately aghast at the idea of losing Thraw to a possible career as a Professional Csun’bi Sirim player.

As for her claims regarding Thraw’s ability to rise as the Chiss Ascendancy’s greatest Strategist and Tactician as long as they could nurture this talent? Mitth’gur’safis could see that potential in his son. However, Mitth’gur’safis was a father first and he still worried about Thraw’s health and capability of attending a military academy...

Dr. Greq’obate’ferdarg had been brutally frank with him when he’d studied the boy’s case files; that the doctors at the medical centre, that the Institute used, were not very far off in their prediction that Thraw could die young if he was not mindful enough of his limitations and health. That his weak heart would not be able to handle too much prolonged stress.

Still, Mitth’gur’safis knew of Thraw’s dreams. And even if it did lead to a shorter life, it was far better for him to be happy out among the stars where he wished to be, than to be rooted upon Csilla, deskbound and safe but sadly wistful for what could have been.

Sev’eere’nuruodo was right... his son was destined to be Mitth’raw’nuruodo. And as his father, Mitth’gur’safis would see him achieve his dreams no matter the heartache it may bring in the future.

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part was longer than I expected. Hope it's still entertaining.


	6. Of Family, Friends and Love

“Father! Father! Thraw’s gone! He’s been kidnapped!” Thras banged the door open to Mitth’gur’safis’ office startling him at his desk.

“What?” The Patriarch of the Eighth ruling family almost scattered all the paperwork off his desk in anger, outrage and fear for his youngest. “Who would have taken him? Where’s Commander Kirg’eciami’ogoqh? Thraw was safe with her when I last checked. Why didn’t she raise—”

“Wait—! H-he’s— with the commander?”

Mitth’gur’safis and Thras stared at each other over the expense of his table for a moment, before he sighed deeply while reaching for his comm unit. In seconds, Kirg’eciami’ogoqh responded to his call.

“Yes, Patriarch?”

“Commander? No need for alarm, I just wanted to check on how your visit to the Aviation Exhibit is going?”

The woman chuckled. “Aristocra Sev’eere’nuruodo has some influence, as expected. We’re in the workshop and Mitth’raw is having the time of his life chatting with the art historians and restorers regarding the work they’re not ready to put on exhibit yet.

“We seem to also have a budding engineer and innovator in your youngest, Patriarch.”

“Sev’eere’nuruodo must be well pleased.”

“Oh, she is. I’ll have to take her drinking, after we’ve brought your son back, to again console her for the decade she’ll have to wait for little Mitth’raw to grow up and be ready for the academy.”

“You do that.” Mitth’gur’safis chuckled as he stepped away from his desk to approach his shamefaced elder son. “Do give us a call when you’re on your way back.”

“Of course, Patriarch.”

Thras still refused to look up when the call ended, though he did let Mitth’gur’safis guide him to the sofa in his study. He blurted out his apology almost immediately after they were seated.

“I’m sorry. Thraw did tell me Kirg’eciami’ogoqh was bringing him to the exhibit at the Museum today. I forgot.”

Mitth’gur’safis pulled the boy into a reassuring hug. “Thras, my son. It’s okay. It’s just been slightly over five months since I adopted you. You’re still not used to the idea of having separate interests with Thraw. I know you are also still getting used to the idea that you can safely leave Thraw behind, and trust that I and our household will care for and guard him from harm.

“This is, I believe, the first time you’ve come home from school and *not* had Thraw waiting for you?”

Thras’ blush deepened in shame. “That was very self-centred of me.”

“You are too hard on yourself.” Mitth’gur’safis released him again so that they could talk face to face.

“But I— I have my friends at school. So, I still should have thought that my brother could have other activities and make his own friends too.”

“And how *do* you feel about the friends he has made.” Mitth’gur’safis was glad to have this opening at last to talk to Thras about Sev’eere’nuruodo, who had in the past few weeks made it a point to visit with Thraw at least once a week; be it in person or by holo.

Thras chewed on his lip unable to meet his eyes for a long moment. “Aristocra Sev’eere’nuruodo is of the Second Ruling Family.”

“Yes, she is.”

“She’s like Commander Ar’alani.”

“Well— Commander Ar’alani is unique because she gave up her family name to devote her life to the Chiss Expansionary Defence Force.” Mitth’gur’safis corrected him carefully.

Thras’ mouth fell open in surprise and alarm.

“She has her reasons for why she’d give up her family. However, as much as your brother admires and idolises Commander Ar’alani, I don’t believe he would ever willingly turn his back on you. “

“Or you too, father.”

“So, you understand we would have little worry that Thraw will intentionally abandon us?”

Thras chewed on his lower lip again. “Aristocra Sev’eere’nuruodo is— very interested to have Thraw enter the CEDF Academy, isn’t she?”

“Can you deny Thraw’s aptitude and abilities?” Mitth’gur’safis asked him gently.

Thras immediately looked down. “As much as I would like to, I don’t want to stand in the way of his dreams.”

“Sev’eere’nuruodo knows Thraw’s limitations. Because of her, he now has a Master who teaches him how to exercise to strengthen his body, as well as how to defend himself. And we have a Grand Master Herbalist who consults with Dr Greq’obate’ferdarg on the tonics he takes to boost his immune system and strengthen his constitution.” Mitth’gur’safis reminded him. “I can tell you with great certainty that Sev’eere’nuruodo wants Thraw *nowhere* near the frontline.”

A lot of the stiffness in Thras’ shoulders eased with that statement as his eyes lit up with understanding too. “She believes he will be a leader. Someone who will rise to the Admiralty.”

“I see that in him too.”

“But will he live long enough to reach that height?” Thras asked softly.

“We shall do everything in our power and more to ensure your brother lives the life he desires, Thras. That is all that can be expected of us.”

Thras leaned into him, letting Mitth’gur’safis hold him in a tight comforting hug. “I don’t want to lose him.” Was said in a whisper against his chest.

“Neither do I, dear one.” Mitth’gur’safis murmured against his forehead. “You *can* trust Sev’eere’nuruodo to have Thraw’s health and interest as her foremost importance too.”

“I’ve— I’ve heard her call him ‘Thrawn’ sometimes, when they think no one is around to hear them.”

Mitth’gur’safis couldn’t help the smile on his face. “So, it appears she’s made a promise to him. Just as she had me promise him to her when he comes of age.”

An unexpected grin pulled on Thras’ lips as he looked up at his father. “She’s going to cry on Kirg’eciami’ogoqh’s shoulder a lot while waiting for Thraw to come of age, isn’t she?”

“*That* is a certainty.” Mitth’gur’safis matched his grin.

* * *

Thras was very aware of his little brother sitting on his bed watching him, as he did his makeup in preparation of going out to meet his friends for a weekend theatre matinee. He didn’t mind his brother’s scrutiny. Thras was used to his brother’s silence and watchful eyes. He was confident that when Thraw was ready to talk, he’d speak up.

“Do you not like Aristocra Sev’eere’nuruodo because she’s prettier than Srosu’onara’aqa?”

Thras scowled at Thraw in the reflection of the mirror. “That’s not a nice thing to say.”

“It is the truth.” The little five-year-old pouted at him as he clutched Admiral Sch’noz’zlar tighter in his arms.

“Be that as it may, it’s still not polite to make comparisons like that.” Thras sighed as he put away his powders and pencils before turning to face Thraw.

“The truth is, I’m jealous of the attention that she gives to you.”

“Oh? Do you want attention from her too?”

“What? No.” Thras protested. “That’s not the attention I’m jealous of.”

“She— she doesn’t spend more than a couple of hours a week with me...”

“Oh, Thraw!” Thras immediately flew to his brother’s side to hug him tight. “*I’m* sorry. It’s not that I begrudge you having your own life and interests. I’m just being selfish and irrational.”

“Why?”

“Irrational...” Thras repeated. “We’ve— I’ve spent so long being the only one taking care of you, I— it takes some getting used to that we’re not alone anymore...

“I have a new world to navigate at school too and it took me a while to adjust to not having you beside me... To trust father and this household to take care of you in my absence...

“I got used to the idea that you’d just be there too. And—” Thras looked at his brother apologetically. “Thraw— I’m in the wrong here. I *shouldn’t* be jealous that you’re making your own friends and your own life. We’ll always— we’ll always be brothers... Nothing will change that...”

His words said to comfort his younger brother were like a revelation to himself too. They were brothers. *Nothing* would change that. It was a fact that Thraw clearly understood too though he hadn’t in his petty jealousies.

Thraw frowned at him in puzzlement. “Why would our friends make any difference in our familial relationship?”

“They don’t.” Thras agreed with him. “It was irrational for me to believe that.”

“So, you don’t believe that anymore?”

“No. Not anymore.” Thras told his brother firmly and with conviction. Finding acceptance in himself at last for their differing paths in life. “Aristocra Sev’eere’nuruodo is a powerful woman. You’re very lucky that she wants to and likes spending time with you.”

Thraw beamed at him. “She comes the closest to beating me at Csun’bi Sirim, and she has so many interesting things to show and teach me.

“I was afraid you—” Thraw suddenly clamped his mouth shut and looked down. His cheeks colouring lavender in embarrassment.

“What is it, Thraw? What were you afraid of?” Thras asked him softly with worry.

“Well—” Thraw looked up at him shyly. “Do you know those story books that Zore’etaotha’usti likes?”

Thras frowned. He had noticed Srosu’onara’aqa to be fond of those sorts of stories too. Commander Kirg’eciami’ogoqh had laughed and assured him, when he asked her, that not all women liked ‘bodice-rippers’ as she’d dubbed them.

“Well, she let me read one of them and— it looked to me like the characters must have had all their senses rotted and dribbling out of their heads the moment they got struck by love.”

Thras barely kept himself under control to not laugh in his brother’s face. Barely. Then, it occurred to him what his brother was comparing the stories to.

“I wasn’t *that* bad!?”

Thraw gave him a dubious look. “On some days, you paint yourself up like a model in a fashion magazine.”

Thras quickly looked at the mirror to check his reflection and found his eyes drawn to the table with the many bottles of hair gel, hair spray, skin care creams, powder, eyeliner, and lipstick. Oh— that collection of makeup, now that he thought about it, *was* a bit excessive.

“Isn’t Srosu’onara’aqa the least bit annoyed when you sometimes put on more make up than she does?”

“Point taken.” Thras sighed as he gave Thraw a hug then returned to his dressing table to grab a makeup removal tissue to clean his face.

This time he just put on sun block, though he couldn’t resist applying at least the eye liner again.

“Why *do* you use lilac?”

“Given that our skin turns lavender when we blush, it is a promised contrast.”

Thraw frowned. “Sev’eere’nuruodo told me the military uses shades of red.”

“It is the warriors’ colours.” Thras looked askance at him. “But there’s time enough for that later when you’re older, Thraw. We’re still young and should indulge in the softer side of life.”

Thraw just gave his brother a sceptical look. “What if I don’t want to feel attraction for anyone?”

“Are you so sure of this?”

The little boy shrugged. “It just seems like a whole lot of trouble.”

“When you find that someone, you will think it is worth it.” Thras told him sagely.

“Is Srosu’onara’aqa that someone for you?”

Thras turned away from his brother to stare at his reflection in the mirror for a long moment. “I want it to be, but I’m not sure. I just know I currently enjoy her company above all others.”

“An— and she appreciates you lining your eyes in lilac for her.”

“Yes, I believe she does.” Thras smiled as he patted his lap. “Come on up here. You aren’t allowed to use red yet, so why don’t you practice with lilac.”

Thraw obediently slid off the bed to climb up on his brother’s lap, but his expression was wary as he looked at his brother in the mirror while holding Admiral Sch’noz’zlar on his own lap. “I really don’t think I’d like to fall in love. It sounds awfully confusing.”

“You’ll change your mind when it bites you.”

“And have my brain rot and all good sense dribble out?! I’d rather not.” Thraw protested in horror. “It sounds like a horrible infection.”

Thras had to bite his lip to stifle his laugh. “Anyway... Do you remember the colouring sheets Matron gave you that first month at the institute? The practice you did following the line?”

Thraw nodded as he watched his brother position his fingers around the pencil.

“Well, think of your face as a canvas and your pencil as your instrument. Your job is to make a piece of art following a purpose that you decide on before you start.” As Thras had guessed, Thraw paid very close attention the minute he mentioned art. “With the Military you use the shades of reds to make yourself look striking and fierce.”

“Whereas with lilac, you make yourself approachable and— attractive?”

“Yes, because your make up isn’t just for you. It is like— war paint. Its purpose determined by the battle you’re facing.”

“You need to respect your weapons...” Thraw stared at the lilac pencil in his hand.

“That’s right. You get to decide, are you making this piece of art for intimidation or attraction?” Thras asked him. “Because the colour alone doesn’t control the meaning you’re conveying with your face.”

“You can be intimidating in lilac?”

“It’s all in the style and the drawing.”

While Thraw was distracted trying to draw a steady lilac line under one eye, Thras discreetly messaged his friends to let them know he wasn’t meeting them after all. Bonding time with his little brother had been fewer and far between since he started school, and he didn’t want to give up these little opportunities when Thraw came to him.

Thras knew that a day would eventually come, when Thraw would begin using shades of red and never look back. But until then, he would learn with lilac and perhaps Thras could even persuade him to keep at least one lilac pencil with him for when he’d meet a potential love.

* * *

The siblings couldn’t say when the actual date of their births was. However, Matron Mitth’flir’ora had suggested to them that they use the date they came to her at the institute. It had appealed to them since they could then celebrate their birthdays together.

In celebration of this day, Mitth’gur’safis also decided to expand the occasion as the day of presentation of his adoptees to the rest of the family; cementing their status in his family as his sons. The rest of the Eighth family were greatly looking forward to this as they were about eaten up with curiosity to meet the two boys who’d ‘tamed’ the infamous curmudgeon that was their Patriarch, and charmed him into adopting them.

None would dispute the good fortune of the eighth family in adopting these two talented children though. Within two school terms, Mitth’ras had already dominated his cohort in lessons and was even building quite a reputation in the debate club. Mitth’raw’s notoriety came with Aristocra Sev’eere’nuruodo interest in him; since she was well known to have no patience with children. She had even been lately seen visiting the Mitth household more frequently than usual and quite often enough in the company of a tiny boy at the museums or even at the academy.

Their first birthday celebrations at the Mitth estate opened as a beautiful, fine day. Enough that Mitth’gur’safis arranged to have their party extended into the external gardens. It was not without some trepidation that he did this with consideration towards little Mitth’raw’s fragile health. However, Dr Greq’obate’ferdarg had assured them that Mitth’raw was indeed much stronger now after his months of physical training and daily tonics.

If there was any hiccup to the day, it was Thras’ over the top reaction to letting his baby brother be exposed to the outside elements for the first time. Poor little Thraw’s wail of ‘Father!’ had brought Mitth’gur’safis and his housekeepers running to his room to discover that the elder boy had bundled Thraw so thoroughly in snow clothes he could hardly move, much less get off the bed.

Mitth’gur’safis shooed Thras off to let Zore’etaotha’usti and Rithu’teke’sernim take care of his youngest son.

“Mitth’ras,” The father steadfastly tried to keep the grin off his face as he spoke to the elder boy in the corridor outside their rooms. “You do know I will always get the best quality materials for you and your brother, don’t you?”

“Yes, but it’s really cold— ”

“Even so, bundling your brother up like that is very likely to give him heat stroke because he’ll be too warm.”

“Oh...”

“Zore’etaotha’usti knows what to do.” Mitth’gur’safis patted his son on the head. “Just a thermal suit, *one* sweater, a jacket, boots, gloves, hat and scarf would be sufficient. Okay?

“We’ll have extra blankets and fire pits set up for pockets of warmth around the garden as well.”

“Okay.”

At that very moment, the door to Thraw’s room opened to let out the little boy dressed as his father had suggested. And even with Admiral Sch’noz’zlar tucked into the front of his jacket and peeking out at his neck under the scarf, it was quite clear that Thraw was still able to freely move his arms. The tiny boy gave his brother a look of disgust and stuck out a tongue at him with a ‘nyeh’ then ran for the parlour.

“Why you—?”

Mitth’gur’safis just managed to snag Thras by his collar to set the boy in the direction of his room. “Sweater, jacket, gloves and hat for you too, young man. Then you can go teach your brother about playing in the snow.”

Thras dived back into his room without question and came charging out again with a whoop, dressed how his father had suggested. A squeal of laughter sounded shortly after the thunder of boots, letting the adults know that the elder brother managed to catch the younger one before he reached the door.

Zore’etaotha’usti smiled indulgently at Mitth’gur’safis. “Isn’t it nice to hear the pitter patter of little feet and the laughter of a child in these halls again, Patriarch?”

“It is, Zore’etaotha’usti. It is.”

* * *

It truly was bliss, seated in the warmth of the porch while he watched the children and the younger adults romp in the crisp new snow.

Earlier, before the rest of the guests arrived, Mitth’gur’safis had taken his sons on a walk around the gardens so that he could show them the beauty of his estates; the bubbling brook, the slowly flowing icy waterfalls, the thicket of stubborn evergreen trees... The children were expectantly enchanted.

The other children of the Eighth family had readily embraced and welcomed the two new comers, eager to make friends with new blood. As expected, Thras had taken well with the older boys and girls who’d brought him eagerly into their midst forming teams to set up snow forts for an all-out snowball fight.

The younger children were clustered with their favourite uncles or aunts to listen to stories or play softer games in the snow. A few of the braver ones had joined Thraw with Aristocra Sev’eere’nuruodo and Commander Kirg’eciami’ogoqh to see if they could spot any of the Mitth estate fauna. If they were lucky, Mitth’gur’safis thought they might find a herd of Saszi. Perhaps even see a buck with a magnificent spread of antlers.

“Father! Look at what I found!” Mitth’gur’safis looked in the direction of the shout to see Thraw running towards him with something candled in his gloved hands. The boy’s nose and cheeks were flushed in lavender as he was practically breathless with excitement.

Mitth’gur’safis gaped to see what Thraw had found. Nahn viscaho, *blue* nahn viscaho the rarest breed of these tiny beautiful snowdrops.

“Well done, Thraw. This is an amazing find.” Mitth’gur’safis told him as the boy carefully placed the plant in his father’s hands.

“Will it survive? Can we cultivate it in the green house?”

“Yes, of course—”

“Yay! I’ll go see if we can find anymore!” Thraw flung his arms around his father’s neck to kiss him on the cheek before dashing off again.

Mitth’flir’ora laughed as she snapped a picture of her father’s stunned look for this sudden expression of affection from his youngest son. Then quickly scrolled back to check that she caught a picture of the kiss as well. She was sure her brother would laugh when she caught up with him to show him the pictures.

Contrary to the fears he’d expressed before the arrival of the Vagaari siblings, their father was doing fine and rediscovering the joys of young parenting again.


	7. Epilogue

Eli looked up from the holo pic of a tiny Chiss child kissing an Elder Chiss on the cheek, to the only slightly older looking Chiss seated facing him. “If you don’t mind my saying, sir. You don’t look very different to this holo though it was taken years ago.”

“You are too kind.” Mitth’gur’safis took the holo back with a smile. “He was a precious child. The nahn viscaho was much like him, a rare treasure found in harsh adversity, growing strong when allowed to thrive... The Mitth estate is now well known to be one of the few places where this flower can be easily found.

“But that is his past. Can you tell me? Has he found someone yet?”

Eli shook his head sadly. “I never saw him show any interest...”

Mitth’gur’safis sighed. “Before he left on the mission that killed him, Thrawn had come to me once, asking if it was all right that he never felt attraction for anyone.

“I had hoped he would find love out in the stars since he never found it among the Chiss.”

The Venerable Chiss elder sighed as he brought up another holo of the brothers blowing out the candles of their cake. “Thrass is, unfortunately, no better in forming a lasting relationship. And with him, I worry that the one who birthed them had forever poisoned his ability to entrust his heart to a woman.

“Any could see he has great respect for Ar’alani, Kirg’eciami’ogoqh and Sev’eere’nuruodo, and I know he does trust and love my daughter Mitth’flir’ora and our housekeeper Zore’etaotha’usti too. But it seems he never let anyone else that close.”

Eli at first coughed in discomfort then he brightened to remember an incident with Thrawn. “Maybe all isn’t lost just yet, sir? Before we graduated from the Academy, your son asked for my assistance in procuring a set of eyeliners. He explained the significance of the colour red to me, but he also added one lilac pencil to his purchases.

“He’d only say that it was a promise.”

Mitth’gur’safis smiled at him gratefully. “Well then, perhaps there is still hope...”

* * *

Thrawn contemplated the lilac pencil in his hand. He had unintentionally picked it up while getting ready for his visit to Lord Vader’s Capital Ship, but had hesitated to put it down again.

Lord Vader had indicated his intention to introduce him to General Maximillian Veers. They were ostensibly meeting to talk about the General’s proposed improvements on his AT-AT units. So why did it feel like there was something else prompting the invitation?

He determinedly returned the lilac pencil to the makeup case and chose a burgundy eyeliner. However, Thrawn couldn’t stop his eyes from straying to the lilac pencil as he finished getting ready.

If it were not for the promise he made to his brother, Thrawn would never have picked up a lilac pencil. He had always claimed to never want to be infected by love, and Thrass had likewise ‘threatened’ him with the fate of falling head over heels when he’d meet his someone.

In all honesty though, Thrawn wouldn’t mind the opportunity to use the lilac pencil. Perhaps he’d then be able to fill the hole of friendship Eli had left in him with his departure.

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all for now :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope this was a satisfactory end to this part of the series.


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